


Bodies at Rest

by dark_pookha



Series: George Krupp: Necromancer [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, Hogwarts, Necromancy, Other, Zombies, necromancer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pookha/pseuds/dark_pookha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Krupp has a problem.  He's a Necromancer and he's only ten years old.  He needs help, and calls his only contact in the Wizard world, Harry Potter.  Harry's been having bad dreams and needs to take time off from his job as an Auror when he gets an emergency call from George Krupp.  Events lead them both to Hogwarts.  A sequel to 'Graverobbers.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Midnight Call

**Author's Note:**

> This is the follow-up to 'Graverobbers.' It's about Harry and George Krupp both finding what they need at Hogwarts. If you've read 'Graverobbers' and are concerned about the technology in it, be assured that you won't see the gun outside of chapter 1 and Harry has a mobile, but only because he has to deal with the Muggle world, too (technology not a main part of this story).
> 
> A/N Thanks to my friend and beta Bella_Portia for her help with the word I used for the 'living dead'. I chose Animortis, which is a combination of Animus and Mortis. She gave me the proper plural of Animortes. Bella_Portia, your support means a lot to me. Your beta work improves my writing. 
> 
> Eighteen stone is 252 pounds or approximately 114 kilos.

A ringing sound from the bedstand awakened Harry. He’d been having the nightmare again, and it took him a moment to realise that he wasn’t really in an abandoned warehouse with a maniac holding Rose hostage. As he opened the drawer in the bedstand, he reached automatically for his glasses and a small, round, mirror. He put his glasses on, and the mirror slipped from his hand and rolled on the carpet. He slid out of bed, eliciting a sleepy noise of protest from Ginny. As he knelt to retrieve the mirror, she rolled over and took the entire blanket.

Harry picked the mirror up, expecting to see Ron’s face on the other end, but it was blank. Puzzled, and fuzzy with sleep, he dug in the drawer until he found what was ringing. He pulled out his mobile, and instantly became more awake. He’d only given his mobile number to a few select Muggle acquaintances and family members. He didn’t recognise the number and wondered briefly if he was going to need to bail Dudley out of jail again. He thumbed the green icon.

“Harry Potter,” he said.

A boy’s voice, just on the verge of puberty answered back. It was the necromancer boy, George Krupp, who’d called Fred from his grave to be in a haunted house for Halloween. The voice took Harry back to Fred’s empty grave: a grave that had been dug out from the inside. He could also clearly remember the photograph that showed the boy’s sister clawing her way out of her grave and shambling off. Harry realised that George had said something, but he hadn’t heard, lost in remembrance.

“Please, help me,” George begged. “My Mum’s going to die tonight!”

Harry’s stomach churned. He tightly clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. He rose and started gathering up his robes and wand as he talked. “George, what’s happened? Is she sick?”

The boy sobbed. “No! She’s just going to die tonight in her sleep!” He started wailing. “There’s nothing I can do to stop it! Please, hurry! I can’t...I can’t stop it!” Harry heard the phone drop and George’s wailing.

Harry slid his robes over his head and made sure he had both his wand and his gun. He looked at the gun with distaste and briefly considered not taking it. He made sure it was loaded, and the safety was on. He paused halfway to his pocket with it before he jammed it in his pocket. He kept his wand in his hand.

“George, I’m going to Apparate there right now!” Not sure if the boy had heard him, he closed his mobile, stuffed it into his pocket, and then he turned and Disapparated.

He reappeared in front of a squalid, run-down house in a poorer, Muggle section of Ottery St. Catchpole. He ran up the stairs, flicked his wand at the door, and ran into the living room as the door opened. He held his wand at the ready.

The last time he’d been here, he hadn’t come inside, and he wasn’t prepared for the state of the house. Fast-food wrappers of all types littered the floor, dirty dishes and clothes were piled onto every flat surface, and it stank of garbage and cat. A black and white cat nursed two small kittens in the corner, next to an overflowing cat box lined with newspaper.

George Krupp entered from the kitchen, tears streaming down his round face. Since Harry had seen him last two years ago, he gained a lot of weight, although he’d only grown a few inches. George was fatter than Dudley had ever been; Harry estimated his weight at eighteen stone on only a four-foot, ten-inch frame.

“Please help! She’s dying!” The boy’s face shone from his tears and he seemed exhausted. He grabbed Harry’s robes and started yanking him down the hallway.

George and Harry started quickly picking his way through the garbage on his way to the room. Harry opened the door, totally unprepared for what he saw and smelled. The smell of unwashed body and cat urine came at him first, followed closely by the vision of a very large woman in a worn, grey flannel nightgown sleeping on the bed.

George had come up behind Harry. As Harry started to approach the woman, George spoke.

“It’s too late, Mr. Potter.”

Harry touched the woman’s neck and tried to find a pulse. He flipped her over and touched her with his wand, trying to restart her heart.

“Call 999!” Harry shouted at George. George fled back into the kitchen, and a minute or so later, Harry could hear him talking to the dispatcher.

Harry continued trying to start the woman’s heart, and every fifteen seconds he inflated her lungs, but she didn’t respond. He kept it up for the few minutes that it took for the paramedics to arrive. Right before they arrived, he switched to Muggle CPR and put a charm on his robes to make them appear as Muggle attire. The paramedics took over the CPR as they loaded her into an ambulance. Harry lied to them and said he was George’s uncle. They all rode to casualty as the paramedics kept trying to resuscitate her.

When they arrived, Harry stayed with George and answered the nurse’s questions. From behind a curtain, he heard the steady, constant beep of a machine and the occasional sound of someone shouting, “Clear!”

George clung to Harry’s hand most of this time, pausing only occasionally to wipe away his tears or to wipe his running nose on the sleeve of his shirt. Harry dug for his handkerchief, but in his haste to leave he hadn’t brought one. He asked a passing nurse for some tissues. She returned a moment later with some and gave them to George.

It felt like hours and hours, but the clock said that it had only been forty-five minutes since they had brought George’s Mum to the hospital, when a doctor came out to speak to Harry and George.

The doctor knelt in front of George. “I’m sorry, son. We tried to bring her back, but she was already gone when she arrived.” George nodded bravely, seeming to be cried out. The doctor turned to address Harry. “You’re the boy’s next of kin?”

Harry thought for a moment before lying. “Yes, I’m his uncle.” George looked at him, astonished.

The doctor looked at Harry. “She was your sister?” he asked sympathetically.

Harry shook his head. “Sister-in-law.” George’s mouth gaped open. “My brother was married to her before he passed away a few years ago.” He made a motion with his concealed wand and silently Confunded the doctor.

The doctor sighed and said, “We have some paperwork that needs to be filled out.” He rose and gestured at them. “If you’ll follow me, please.”

“If you could tell us where we need to go, we’ll meet you there in a moment,” Harry said. “We need to visit the bathroom first.”

The doctor nodded understandingly and said, “Room 110, down the hall; follow the yellow stripe on the floor, until you come to a T-intersection, then the second door on the right.”

Harry took George’s hand and led him down the corridor to the bathroom. When they arrived, he took the boy into a stall. “Muffliato.” He looked down at George, who was eyeing his wand with interest. “George, do you have an Aunt or Uncle that can come stay with you?” He remembered from the previous case with George that he didn’t know who his father was.

The boy shook his head glumly. “It’s always just been my Mum and me, and Wilhelmina when she was alive.”

The boy’s sister had died of leukaemia when he was younger and he’d called her corpse from her grave at the same time he’d called Fred’s body. Harry vividly remembered the zombies. He had originally thought of them as Inferi, but they were no mere puppets, they had a sliver of the originally personality to them, something he’d thought impossible. The boy had just been trying to make sure his school’s haunted house was well-stocked with zombies at Halloween. He hadn’t realised that one of the bodies he had raised had been a murderer who hated wizards before he had died. With effort, Harry yanked his mind back to the present.

Harry knelt until his face was level with George’s. “I’m going to claim to be your next of kin when we fill out the paperwork. The doctor might seem confused, and that’s because I’m going to make him think that I’m your uncle. I think you should come live with a wizard family rather than go to a Muggle orphanage or group home. It won’t be long before you start at Hogwarts anyway, and I think you need to be with others like us.” He flashed back again to Dumbledore visiting Tom Riddle at the orphanage and shivered. He knew intellectually that orphanages were no longer that bad, but he still had a vision of the boy being treated badly.

George whispered, “I’ll get to live with a wizard family?”

Harry hugged him tightly. “Yes. We’ll find a wizard family for you.”

George began crying again, sobbing spasmodically into Harry’s shoulder.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Conner looked over the file folder sitting in front of him before addressing Harry. When he did speak, it was with a strong Scots burr. “This boy troubles me.” He looked directly into Harry’s eyes. Harry used to find this disconcerting, but he had come to realise that Conner did this to make sure he was paying attention.

“Why is that, sir?” Harry asked.

“He’s a necromancer, and a damned strong one.” He paused and consulted the file. “In your original report, you use the word ‘Inferi,’ but indicate that you knew it wasn’t the proper term.” He looked up at Harry again. “Do you know the correct term now?”

“Animortis is the correct term, I believe.” Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, revealing the dark circles under them. After he replaced his glasses he noticed Conner looking at him expectantly.

“And do you know why that’s important, now?” Conner asked.

Harry sighed. “The last wizard known that was capable of creating Animortes was Vladimir Rostopich during the Napoleonic wars.” Harry closed his eyes as he tried to remember what he had read about Rostopich. “Rostopich went behind the French lines as they were losing men due to the Russian scorched-earth policy. He raised the fallen French soldiers as Animortes and had them attack the French Grande Armée in the night, dressed as Polish conscripts.”

Conner waved his hand impatiently. “Yes, yes, that’s fascinating. But, it’s much simpler. You must understand that every wizard who’s shown a fascination with necromancy and has been able to raise Animortes has gone round the bend, every last one of them.” He emphasised his point by thumping his desk on ‘every,’ ‘last,’ and ‘one.’

“Do you think that George is going to go bad, sir?” Harry slumped in his chair.

“I think the boy needs watching. I think we need to choose his foster parents very carefully.” He met Harry’s eyes. “They need to have strong moral fibre and good family values. They should have no younger children to be influenced by the boy. They should have a strong male role model for the boy; especially since the lad’s never had one in his life. I would prefer a large extended family.” He smiled at Harry. “Don’t you know a family like that?”

Harry smiled back through his fatigue. “I know just the couple.”

Conner laughed grimly. “I’ll just bet you do.” His face grew serious and he steepled his hands under his chin. “Harry, I’m worried about you.”

“Sir?”

Conner leaned forward in his chair. “I know you haven’t been sleeping well and it shows in your reports.” He opened a drawer and thrust a scroll at Harry. “This report is incomplete, as have been your last few reports.” He again looked direct at Harry. “There was also the incident with Mundungus Fletcher.”

Harry’s face grew hard. “I told him what would happen if I ever caught him trying to steal from me or my family again.”

“He’s filed a complaint against you.” Conner sighed. “Of course, it won’t go anywhere because of your sterling reputation as a straight arrow, but mark my words, Potter; you got lucky.” He snatched the scroll away from Harry as Harry was about to unroll it.

Conner put the scroll away. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, and then Conner spoke. “Potter, I’m officially recommending that you take time off.”

Harry started to protest, but Conner cut him off. “Did you enjoy your time at Hogwarts last year as the temporary Defence Against the Dark Arts professor when Professor Spenser was on maternity leave?”

“Yes, sir.”

Conner reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope with the Hogwarts crest on it. “Headmaster Diggory is asking you to take the position again. It would be a three-year contract this time; Professor Spenser’s taking a sabbatical to study vampires in Romania.”

Harry started to speak again, but Conner just kept talking. “I’d like you to take this position. Officially, you would be on leave from your job as Senior Auror, but unofficially, you’d be there keeping an eye on the Krupp boy.”

Harry hesitated a moment before he picked up the envelope. “I’ll think about it, sir,” he said slightly frostily. “Will that be all, sir?”

Conner nodded. “That will be all, Potter.”

Out in the hallway, Harry opened the letter, reading the invitation to teach at Hogwarts. He went to his office where he closed the door, waved his wand at the everburning candles illuminating his office and put his head on his desk. He fell asleep almost instantly, and for the first time in weeks he didn’t dream of a madman holding Rose. He dreamt of the Gryffindor common room and sitting in a comfortable chair with Ron and Hermione laughing at his side. He dreamt of Luna telling him to follow his dreams, and embracing him fondly. Finally, he dreamt of Ginny at Hogwarts, her hair trailing behind her as she zoomed by on a broom, laughing as a hapless Slytherin player fell further behind her.


	2. Meeting the Weasleys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a request for Molly and Arthur.

Harry sat in the Burrow with Ginny at his side on the sofa. An untouched cup of tea rested on the table in front of him. Hermione sat curled up in a comfortable old armchair, reading. Arthur was fiddling with the wireless, trying to get it to pick up the Quidditch match between Bulgaria and South Africa.

“What’s wrong, love?” Ginny whispered to Harry. “You haven’t touched your tea.”

Harry shook his head, reached into his pocket, and handed her the envelope from Hogwarts. Ginny read the letter. From the armchair, Hermione looked on, her book now open over her lap.

Ginny looked up when she was done reading. “Are you going to take the position?”

“Yes, I think I am.” He took Ginny’s hand. “I need a break, and Hogwarts just feels like the right place for me to be.” He looked down at the letter, held between their hands. “In a lot of ways, Hogwarts was my first real home: my only real home until we got married and made one of our own.”

Ginny leaned over and kissed him.

“May I see that?” Hermione asked.

Harry kissed Ginny’s wrist before releasing her hand. He stood and took the letter over to Hermione. As she read it, she broke into a grin. “You’ll be great at this, Harry. Amos had only good things to say about your time there last year.”

Arthur finally gave up on the wireless, sat down heavily and lit his pipe. Aromatic smoke filled the air, scenting it with the peach-flavoured tobacco that Arthur had recently taken to favouring. “Going to teach at Hogwarts again, Harry?” he asked.

“I’m going to take a three-year position there while Professor Spenser is on sabbatical,” Harry answered. He started to sit back down next to Ginny, but instead continued past her.

Harry went into the kitchen where Molly was washing dishes while Ron dried them and put them away. He watched the scene for a few seconds before they both became aware of him and turned around.

“C-could I have you both come into the living room?” Harry asked hesitantly.

“What’s up?” Ron asked. He put the towel he’d been using down on the counter. Molly sighed, and hung it on the hook above the sink. They both followed Harry into the living room.

When they had all sat back down, Harry pulled a second letter out of his pocket. This one was sealed with Conner’s crest as Chief Auror. He handed the letter to Molly.

“I have a favour to ask.” Harry sat and squeezed Ginny’s hand. “Technically, the Ministry has a favour to ask of you, but it’s personal to me, and I think it’ll be personal to you.” He waited as Molly slit open the letter with her wand and read the cover sheet of the thick roll of parchment inside it. When she had finished, she handed the letter to Arthur. He quickly scanned over the letter, with the practised ease of a lifetime bureaucrat.

He handed the letter back to Molly and raised his eyebrows at her. Harry had come to recognise this look from Arthur to Molly as ‘whatever you think’s best, love.’

Molly read through the rest of the parchment, rolling it expertly as she went. After she had finished, she rolled it up neatly and tapped it against her chin. “I’d like to meet him first to be sure; but, barring something unexpected, of course we’ll take the boy,” she said.

“Boy, what boy?” Ron asked sitting up from where he’d been leaning on Hermione’s shoulder.

Harry turned to Ron. “George Krupp.”

Ron’s eyes grew wide and he sat up straighter. “You’re not serious!” He stood up and went to his mother. He held out his hand for the letter.

“I’ve already decided, Ronald,” she told him. Arthur cleared his throat. Molly laughed and touched Arthur on the shoulder. “What I meant is that we’ve already decided.” Arthur smiled and went back to puffing his pipe. Molly handed the letter to Ron.

As Ron read through it, Hermione asked, “Isn’t that the boy who called Fred from his grave?”

Harry nodded as Ginny gripped his hand tighter. “That’s right. His mum just passed away, and Conner and I want to make sure that he gets placed with a Wizard family; one that has the proper values.” He met each of their eyes in turn. “Conner wanted to make sure that George doesn’t fall like all the other necromancers have fallen.” He stood and began to pace. “Pretty much every wizard who’s had an affinity for the dead has gone mad and fallen into the Dark Arts.” He stopped in front of Ron and addressed him directly. “I’m not thrilled with the idea of him living here, but I can’t think of anyone better to raise him properly.”

Ron glared at him. “Look, mate, we can’t have this boy stay here!” He shook the letter at Harry. “It says right here that he could be dangerous.”

“Nonsense,” Arthur said from his armchair, his pipe held in his hand. “He can’t be any more dangerous than any other underage wizard; certainly no more dangerous than Fred and George were.” He smiled. “I think we can steer him onto the right path. It shouldn’t be too hard. You read what it said about him, that he’s ‘remarkably well-adjusted for the amount of neglect,’ and he’s ‘well-mannered.’”

Ron shook the letter again. “But, Dad, it also says that he may have ‘powers unseen since the time of Rostopich.’”

Arthur knocked his pipe over the ashtray. “If he does, then we’ll deal with them as they come.” He laughed. “It can’t be any worse than when Bill brought home that mummy curse from Egypt when he interned there over the summer.”

“But...” Ron started to say.

“No, Ronald.” Molly cut him short. “We’ve decided. We’ll be meeting him, and unless there’s a good reason not to, we’re going to look after him.” She put her hand on Arthur’s shoulder again. “The poor child just lost his mother and has no one else to turn to. He needs us and we won’t turn our backs on him.” She squeezed Arthur’s shoulder fondly. “Besides, he’ll be spending most of his time at Hogwarts; he’ll only be here for a few months before he goes to Hogwarts and then he’ll only be here on school vacations.”

Harry handed his letter from Hogwarts to Molly and Ron in turn so they could each read it. “And I’ll be watching him there.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Molly sat in the small, drab waiting area outside a door marked ‘Ministry of Social Services.’ She pulled a ball of knitting wool from her purse and began working on a maroon sweater for Rose. Echoes came from the empty waiting area as her needles clacked and spun in her hands. “Knit one, pearl two,” she muttered under her breath.

Arthur entered the room from the hallway and sat next to her. She pecked him on the cheek and continued knitting.

“I thought I was running late,” Arthur said, slightly out of breath.

Molly looked at him slyly and smiled. “You know how the bureaucracy works; hurry up and wait.”

Arthur laughed. “I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a government bureaucracy,” he said, laughing.

They waited a few more minutes. Arthur stood and began pacing. He walked back and forth from the door to the hallway. He would make a circuit, and then he would sit. After sitting for a few seconds, he would rise and begin pacing again.

Molly looked up from her knitting. “Please, you’re making me dizzy.”

“I can’t imagine what’s taking them so long.” Arthur looked at his watch. “I’m going to have to cancel some meetings this afternoon, including one with Percy.” He pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of his pocket and wrote a brief message. After he put the quill away, he folded the parchment into a paper aeroplane, touched it with his wand, and tossed it. It zipped off down the hallway.

He had just started pacing again when the door opened and a tall, skinny witch with a pock-marked face opened the door.

“Arthur and Molly Weasley?” she asked.

They both nodded. As Arthur shook the woman’s hand, Molly put away her knitting and stood.

“I’m Grace Travis-Smythe, George’s caseworker.” She shook Molly’s hand. “If you would both follow me, please.”

As they walked through the corridor behind the door, Grace spoke. “I apologise for the delay; I was tied up with another case and couldn’t leave the girl alone.” She sighed. “We’re still overwhelmed with children from the war, even ten years later.”

“No apology needed,” Arthur said. “I’ve had to keep people waiting much longer when an emergency came up.”

Grace led them to a small, Spartan room that had only a table with four chairs around it, a small chandelier with lit candles, and a mirror on the far side.

“If you’d wait here, I’ll be right back with George?” Grace managed to make it a question.

Molly sat at the table and Arthur kept standing as Grace left the room. When Grace had left, Arthur sat by Molly’s side.

Arthur looked back at the mirror behind them. “Looks more like an interrogation room than a meeting room.”

Molly turned and looked at the mirror and nodded. Arthur sighed and sat next to Molly.

Grace returned quickly, with George following behind her. Molly and Arthur both stood as they entered the room. George kept his head down and his eyes hidden behind his fringe. He was dressed in Muggle attire of jeans and a T-shirt.

Grace squeezed George’s shoulder. “George, this is Molly and Arthur Weasley.” George lifted his head and met their gazes. His body shook with fine tremors, but he smiled slightly when Molly smiled at him. Arthur moved forward with his hand extended, and Molly was only a step behind. George paused only briefly before shaking Arthur’s and Molly’s hands.

They all took a seat around the table, Arthur sat next to Molly, and across from them, Grace sat next to George.

Grace spoke first. “George, the Weasleys have agreed to take you into their home.”

George pushed his fringe out of his face, revealing his red-rimmed brown eyes. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Molly asked.

George hung his head again. “Why do you want me?”

Arthur started to say something, but Molly held out her hand and he stopped. She reached across the table and lifted George’s face until he looked her in the eyes. “Our son-in-law Harry told us about you and we wanted to make sure you got a good home with a witch and a wizard, especially since you’ll be going to Hogwarts later this year.”

“Mr. Potter’s your son-in-law?” he asked.

Molly nodded. “He’s married to our daughter, Ginevra. We’ve raised seven children and have a nice comfortable home.”

George’s eyes widened, his pupils dilated and his breathing came faster and shallower. He started shaking and hung his head again as tears started to flow.

“You’re Fred’s mum and dad.” It was a statement and not a question.

Arthur answered. “That’s right; we’re Fred’s parents.”

George started sniffling through his tears. “You’re not mad at me?”

Arthur laughed. “When I was eight and just coming into my powers, I accidently blew up our family’s shed when I got mad at my brother. Things happen when you’re a young wizard.”

“Not raising zombies, though?” George wailed. “I’m a freak.”

“You are not a freak,” Molly said, enunciating each word carefully. She handed him a handkerchief from her purse. He took it gratefully and wiped his nose and tears. “You’re just a young wizard coming into his powers. I’ve raised six boys and a girl, and I speak from experience.” She laughed. “If you heard all the things they did when they were young, you wouldn’t feel like a freak.”

George kept his head down. “If I’m not a freak, why do they keep testing me and asking me questions?”

“Who’s testing you?” Arthur asked.

Grace answered. “Chief Auror MacKinnon’s having some of the Unspeakables talk to him.”

Arthur’s face reddened. “What? Why?”

Grace shrugged and held out her hands. “I don’t know; I’m not permitted in the room when they question him.”

“What did they ask you, dear?” Molly asked him.

“They kept asking me how I did it; how I brought back the dead.” He sniffled and wiped his nose again with Molly’s handkerchief. “I kept telling them, that I don’t know how I did it, I just did it.” He looked back at the mirror and his voice dropped to a whisper. “They’re watching us now, aren’t they?”

Molly surreptitiously pulled her wand from her purse. “Muffliato.” Grace looked astonished, her mouth gaped.

“Now they can’t hear us,” Molly told George.

“Mr. Potter did that same spell when he talked to me.” He sniffled again. “How does it work?”

Arthur answered, “Anyone not at the table will only hear a buzzing in their ears.” He smiled. “It won’t take them long to figure it out and counter it. Did you want to tell us anything while they can’t hear?”

George hung his head again and spoke quietly, barely above a whisper. “They brought in a dead budgie and wanted me to bring it back.” His voice got even quieter. “I told them I couldn’t bring it back; only make it like a zombie.” He went silent for a moment. “They kept pushing me until I couldn’t take it anymore, kept asking the same questions over and over.” He broke into a grin and raised his head to look at Arthur. “The man asking me questions had his hand too close to the bird and it bit his finger; they stopped asking me questions after that.”

Grace’s face had grown steadily redder and angrier while George talked. She stood and went to the mirror. “No more questioning of the boy!” she shouted at the mirror. “Not without a court order!” She turned back to the table and addressed the Weasleys. “I’m sorry about that; I didn’t know what they were doing. I was just following orders.”

Molly stood and went to her. “Don’t apologise to us; apologise to George.”

Grace sat by George again and took his hand. “George, I’m sorry that I let them question you. I should have made them force me.”

George looked at her and surprised all of them by hugging her and patting her back awkwardly. “It’s okay, Ms. Travis-Smythe.”

George spent the rest of the visit talking about school and his cat Mittens who had just had kittens. Grace smiled as George opened up to Molly and Arthur. Molly talked about the Burrow and what Hogwarts was like. Arthur talked to the boy about the Muggle world and George laughed at Arthur’s misconceptions of it.

After an hour, Grace looked at her watch. “I’m afraid that I’ve got another appointment and we’ve got to go.” She stood and squeezed George’s shoulder. “Did you enjoy meeting the Weasleys?”

George stood also. “It was nice meeting you,” he said formally. Molly laughed at his earnestness, and he lowered his head.

Molly rose and went to hug him. He stiffened under her touch. “I wasn’t laughing at you, I promise. It was nice to meet you, too and I hope that you’ll like staying with us.”

George looked up at her as she stepped back from the embrace. “You still want me?” he asked quietly.

Arthur stood and went to Molly’s side. “More than ever, George; more than ever.”

Grace took George by the hand and led him from the room. When she left, Arthur turned to the mirror.

“Conner!” he shouted. “I know you’re watching us!” He pulled his wand, pointed it at the candles on the small chandelier. “Nox Totalus.” The room went dark, showing the illuminated room behind the mirror. They both just caught a glimpse of tall, dark-haired man exiting

Molly relit the candles. “That wasn’t Conner.”

Arthur met her eyes. “I would swear it was Croaker; I can’t remember his first name.”

Molly tilted her head quizzically. “I don’t know him. What does he do?”

Arthur sighed, and then answered. “He’s an Unspeakable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N I would like to thank my beta-reader, Bella_Portia. After she read this chapter, I changed it considerably, so any mistakes or typos are mine and mine alone.


	3. A New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry brings George to live at the Burrow. Something strange happens.

   Molly and Arthur sat in Conner’s office, reading over the thick sheaf of paperwork they’d been given.  Every so often, they would sign something and continue to the next page.  Jim Philby of the Ministry of Social Services sat in the corner.  Molly would occasionally ask a question of him.    
  
            After they’d finished signing and initialling everywhere indicated on the form, Jim looked it over.  “The boy is so looking forward to living with you.”  He smiled and stuffed the paperwork into a large blue folder that he stuffed into an enormous envelope.  After he’d sealed the envelope, he touched it with his wand.  It disappeared with a small pop.  
  
             “Congratulations, Molly.”  Jim shook her hand.  “You and Arthur are now the boy’s official guardians.”  He shook Arthur’s hand.  
  
            “Excellent, Jim!”  Arthur slapped Jim on the back.  “We want to take custody of him as soon as possible.”  
  
             Jim started gathering up his coat and hat.  “We’ll have his paperwork completed and he’ll be ready to go around three o’clock this afternoon.”  Jim left the office.  When the door closed, Arthur rounded on Conner.  
  
             “Why in the hell did you have Unspeakables questioning George?” Arthur asked, his face mottling.  
  
             Conner sighed and steepled his fingers under his chin.  “They didn’t ask, Arthur.  They told me they were going to talk to him and I didn’t have any choice in the matter.”   
  
            Molly sat forward.  “What did they ask him?  What did they find out?”  
  
            Conner leaned forward, and waved his wand around his office in a way that Arthur recognised as a preventative sweep against magical spying.  He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a file and tossed it to Arthur.  “Here, read it for yourself.”  
  
             Molly leaned over Arthur’s shoulder as he opened the folder.  Almost the entire interview had been redacted.  Arthur flipped the pages rapidly, but everything was almost completely blacked-out.  
  
             Arthur looked back up at Conner.  “Even with your clearance, this was all redacted?”  
  
             Conner held out his hand for the file, and Arthur handed it back.  Conner locked it back in his drawer.  “I went to Ewan Croaker himself and he wouldn’t answer my questions.”  He looked at Arthur and Molly in turn.  “I promise that I’ll find out what’s going on and let you know.”    
  
             Conner leaned forward.  “I have Harry on this, unofficially, of course.  If anyone can get to the bottom of this, it’s him.”  
  
             “I don’t like working in the dark, Conner,” Arthur said.  “Hasn’t the Ministry learned about keeping secrets like this?”  
  
             Molly stood.  “What should we do in the meantime?”  
  
             Conner sighed again.  “I think you should just go about business as usual.  If you find anything unusual, let Harry or myself know.”  He stood as well.  “I don’t like that Ewan’s keeping secrets from me.”    
  
             His wand suddenly twitched and glowed blue at the tip.  They all looked at it.  Conner held his fingers to his lips in shush.  
  
             Conner stood and moved to shake Arthur’s hand.  “I’ll have Harry pick up the boy and bring him to the Burrow.”  He shook Molly’s hand as well.  “He seems to like Harry.”  
  
   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
            Harry waited in Jim Philby’s office.  He’d received a message from Conner telling him that George Krupp was about to be turned over to the Weasleys and would he please go and take the boy to them.  
  
             Jim’s receptionist had told Harry that Jim would only be a moment.  Harry’s practised eyes took in everything about the office, from the Kenmare Kestrels poster on the wall to the immaculate carpet under the desk.  He saw the file on George sitting on the desk, started to pick it up, but stopped and sat back in his chair.  
  
             Jim entered and greeted Harry, who stood to shake his hand.  
  
             “Conner sent me to pick up George Krupp and take him to the Burrow,” Harry told him.  
  
             “Why didn’t Molly and Arthur come pick him up?” Jim asked.  
  
             Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes under his glasses.   “I’m taking time off to teach at Hogwarts while Professor Spenser’s on sabbatical and he wanted this to be my last act as an Auror.”  He sat and waited for Jim to sit, too.  
  
             “Conner also wanted to know what you found out about George.”  Harry sat still and folded his hands in his lap.  
  
             Jim took George’s file and locked it in one of his desk drawers.  “If he wants to read George’s file, he can damn well get a court order.  You know that juvenile records are confidential.”   He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.  
  
             “I know that, and so does Conner.”  Harry waited a moment.  “All we want to make sure is that he didn’t show any strange powers or show signs of being...mistreated.”  
  
              Jim’s eyes snapped open.  “If you mean abuse, then no, only neglect.”  He tilted his chair forward and placed his hands flat on the desk.  “His mother didn’t hit him, but she didn’t supervise him properly, either.  She’d be out all night drinking, and he’d have to fend for himself.  He says that she’d come home in the morning and breakfast would be cold fish and chips.  All of this was in the report that we gave Arthur and Molly!”  He stopped himself from continuing shouting with an effort.   
  
             Harry nodded.  “He’ll get treated properly at the Burrow.”  
  
             Jim sighed again.  “I know that.”  
  
             “What is it, Jim?” Harry asked.  
  
             “It’s…I don’t know,” Jim stammered.   He closed his eyes again.  “Maybe this job’s just getting to me, finally.”  
  
             Harry took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  “I know what you mean.”  
  
             Jim opened his eyes.  “I think I might need a break.  I’ve seen a lot, and we just can’t help everyone who needs it.”  
  
             “But we do what good we can.”  Harry put his glasses back on.  
  
             Jim was about to reply when his receptionist stuck his head in the door.    
  
             “Grace is here with the boy, sir,” he said respectfully.  
  
             Grace entered, with George in tow.  George saw Harry and relief crossed his face.   
  
             “He’s been processed and the paperwork’s all done, sir,” she said to Jim.  She noticed Harry and did a double-take.  Harry was used to the reaction and smiled at her.  
  
             “Harry Potter,” he said, standing and extending his hand.  
  
             She took it nervously and said, “Grace Travis-Smythe.”  
  
             “Jim has only good things to say about you, Grace.”  Harry retrieved his hand from her grip.  She’d been shaking it continuously for several seconds.  
  
             Her face coloured and she jerked back her hand.  “I—he…”  She took a moment and composed herself.  George waited patiently by her side.  
  
             “Harry’s going to take George to the Burrow,” Jim told Grace.  
  
             He stood and took George’s hand.  Grace gave the boy a quick hug which he returned half-heartedly.    
  
              “Are you ready to go to your new family?” Harry asked.  
  
             Jim cleared his throat.  Harry looked at him.  “We’ll send along his belongings later.”  
  
             “Don’t want nothin’ from that house,” George said loudly from Harry’s side.  “Except Mittens.”  
  
             “Mittens?” Harry asked.  
  
             George looked up at Harry.  “Mittens is my cat; she’d just had kittens.”  He hung his head.  “I want Mittens,” he repeated in a small voice.  
  
             Jim looked over the file.  “The Muggle Animal Control authorities have her.”  He scribbled an address on a piece of paper for Harry.  Harry took the address and put it in his pocket.  
  
             “I promise that I’ll get Mittens and her kittens and bring them later.”  Harry squeezed George’s hand.  “Is that okay?”  
  
             George looked up at Harry.  “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”  
  
             “You can call me Harry.  Are you ready?”  
  
             George nodded.  
  
             Harry took his hand and started leading him through the Ministry.  
  
   
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
               Molly, Arthur, Ron, Hermione and Ginny all waited in the living room of the Burrow.  They took turns looking nervously at the clock.  Three o’clock had come and passed.    
  
             “I’m going to the Ministry to find out what’s keeping them.”  Molly moved toward the fireplace and began to reach into the bowl of Floo powder when the fire started glowing green, signalling an incoming visitor.   
  
             Harry stepped out of the fireplace, holding George’s hand.  George tried to hide behind Harry, but Harry stepped behind him and put his hands on George’s shoulders.  George kept his head down, but his eyes flicked up from under his greasy fringe.  
  
             Harry said, “George, you already know Molly and Arthur Weasley.” George stepped forward from Harry’s grasp and held his hand out formally to Arthur.  Molly laughed, knelt and embraced George, who stiffened.  His hand fell back to his side.    
  
            Molly started to put both hands on his face, but stopped when he drew back a little further into Harry.  She dropped her hands to her side.  “Welcome to the Burrow, George.”   Arthur held his hand out and George took it.  They shook hands rather formally.  
  
             When George spoke, it was with a small, high voice.  “This is my new home?”  He looked around at the well-worn, but comfortable furnishings; his eyes seemed to drink it all in.  
  
             Arthur answered.  “It’s not much, but it’s home.”  
  
             “It’s so much nicer than my house was,” George said wonderingly.  “Everything’s so clean.”  
  
             Molly laughed.  “It’s much easier to keep clean now that the kids are gone.”  She pointed to Ginny.  “This is my daughter, Ginevra.  She’s married to Harry.”  Ginny stood and moved to Harry’s side.  George nodded gravely at her and giggled when she winked at him and said, “It’s Ginny.”  
  
             Molly moved to Ron and put her hand on his shoulder.  “This is our son, Ronald and his wife Hermione.”  
  
             George looked down at the floor and spoke in an even smaller voice.  “I remember you.”  
  
             Ron moved to George and knelt in front of him, so their faces were level.  “I remember you, too.”  
  
             George lifted his head and looked at Ron with tears starting to form in his face.  “I—I’m sorry that I called your brother from the grave.”  He started to cry and sniffle.  “I couldn’t help it.  Something about him called to me.”  
  
             Ron handed George a clean handkerchief from his pocket.  “It’s okay, it’s all right.”  He spoke soothingly as George wiped his face.  “I know you didn’t mean to do what you did and I forgive you.”  
  
             George started to hand back the handkerchief, but Ron reached out and closed the boy’s hand around it.  With his free hand, he gave George a rough, one-handed hug.  “Keep it; it’s the least I can do for my new brother.”  
  
             “B-brother?” George asked.  
  
             “Brother,” Ron repeated firmly.  He grinned at George.  “You’ve got four other new brothers, too.”    
  
             Molly took down a family picture from Percy’s wedding.  She pointed at each of the boys in turn.  “That’s Bill, the eldest.”  George flinched back from Bill’s scared face, and he took an involuntary step back when Bill waved at him from the photo.  
  
             She pointed at Charlie.  “That’s Charlie; he’s off in Romania right now on the dragon refuge.”  Charlie flashed him the ‘rock-on’ sign.  
  
             “Dragon?”  George asked.  He looked at Harry, who nodded.    
  
             “There really are dragons.”  Harry smiled a tight, thin smile and Ginny laughed.  
  
             George turned back to Molly and the photograph.  She pointed at Percy, who nodded formally.  “That’s Percy; he’s Minister of the Department of International Magic Cooperation.”  
  
             She pointed at a figure who had been hiding behind Percy, putting rabbit ears over him.  George Weasley grinned in the photo as he came from behind Percy.  
  
             The boy took a step back and began blubbering.  “P-please, m-make him go away.  I didn’t mean to call him up, please.”  He ran to Harry.    
  
             Harry knelt in front of him.  “It’s okay, George.”  Harry patted him awkwardly.  “It’s not Fred; it’s his twin brother.”  
  
             The boy turned from Harry and went to where Molly held out the picture. She pointed at George’s face in the photo.  He pulled his hair aside and showed the boy his missing ear.    
  
             “See, it’s not Fred.”  Molly held out the photo for George to take.  He took it and looked it over curiously.  He seemed fascinated by the way the people in the photo moved.    
  
             He jabbed his finger at Percy.  “Call him.  Have him come here.”  He dropped the photo and his eyes rolled back in his head.  
  
             Molly bent over to pick up the photo, not noticing that his eyes had rolled back.  “What? Why?”  
  
             “I’ll go get him myself,” Harry said, George’s midnight call and his mother’s sudden death flashed through his head.  He turned and Disapparated.  
  
             George’s head lolled and he collapsed heavily to the ground.  Ginny barely caught his head before it hit the floor.  He began to moan and thrash.    
  
            Ron stood quickly and took charge.  “He’s having a fit.  Hold him down and don’t let him bang around.”  
  
             “Should we make sure he doesn’t choke on his tongue?”  Ginny began to move toward his jaw.    
  
             “No!” Ron shouted.  “That’s a good way to lose a finger!  Just hold him!”  
  
            Ginny held his head and Arthur and Molly each took a leg while Ron held his arms down.  Hermione used her Patronus to call a Healer from St. Mungo’s.  
  
             The Healer Apparated almost instantly.  She moved to George, put her wand tip on his chest and calmed him with an incantation.  His thrashing stopped and he began snoring heavily.    
  
             “What...” Molly started to say when Harry suddenly Apparated, holding Percy.  Percy fell, his leg obviously broken as it flopped uselessly.  He screamed when he fell.  The Healer shoved Harry out of the way and sedated Percy.  She quickly scanned his leg with her wand.  
  
             Molly knelt over Percy, holding his hand as the Healer worked.  “Will he be okay?’  
  
             The Healer nodded.  “Looks like just a broken leg, but I need to take him to St. Mungo’s to be sure.  If it is just a broken leg, he should be home in no time.”  She clipped a blue button to Percy’s robes and pressed it.  Molly let go of Percy and a few seconds later, the button flashed and he Disapparated.  
  
             “I sent him on to casualty at St. Mungo’s.”  The Healer summoned her mouse Patronus and sent it to follow Percy with a message.  She knelt by George and started scanning him with her wand.  She frowned when she was finished.  
  
             “I don’t see anything obviously wrong with him, but I’d like to take him to St. Mungo’s for observation.”   
  
              Molly nodded.  She turned to Arthur.  “You go see about Percy; I’m going to go with the boy.”  
  
             The Healer clipped a yellow button onto George.  Molly held one of his hands and the Healer held the other.  The button flashed and they all Disapparated with a pop.  Arthur followed them a few seconds later.  
  
             “What happened, mate?” Ron asked Harry as he sat heavily on the ground.  
  
            Harry coughed.  “I Apparated into Percy’s office at his house, right next to him.”  He coughed again.  “I just happened to be looking out the window and saw a Muggle bin lorry rolling toward the house.”  He started coughing spasmodically.  
  
             Ginny summoned a glass of water from the kitchen. Harry drank from it gratefully and continued.  “It was sliding out of control down the hill toward the house and I just had enough time to grab Percy and yank him out of the way when it crashed through the wall.”  He sat down the glass of water.  “If I’d been any slower, he’d have been pinned between the lorry and his desk.”  He coughed again.  “As it was, it must have still clipped him on the leg as we Disapparated.”  
  
             He picked up the glass of water and drained it.  “I need to report this to Conner.”    
  
             Hermione moved toward the fireplace.  “We’ll see you at St. Mungo’s.”  She started to tug at Ron’s hand.  
  
             Ron pulled his hand away from her.  “I’m going to go check out Percy’s house and make sure that Audrey and the children are okay.”  Ron and Hermione each left separately through the fireplace.  
  
             Harry gave Ginny a perfunctory kiss and started to Disapparate.  She grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him more thoroughly.  “I’ll see you at St. Mungo’s.  I’ll be with Percy.  Thanks for saving one of my family again.”  
  
             Harry gripped both of her hands.  “He’s my family now, too.”  He released her hands and Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my friend Bella_Portia for her wonderful work as a beta for this story. This chapter has changed a lot since she beta read it and any errors are mine and mine alone.


	4. Too Many Georges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George starts to settle in at the Burrow. Unfortunately, he now has a foster brother also named George.

Harry finished tidying up his office.  He flicked an imaginary speck of dust off his desk and went through it one last time to make sure he left it in good shape for his replacement.  He reached into the back of the top desk drawer and pulled out a photograph that had been wedged into it.  The photo was scratched from being in his drawer, but he could still make it out.  Harry smiled at the image of himself with Ron, Ginny and Hermione outside the Tower of London.  They’d made a day of it on one of the rare breaks in Harry’s and Ron’s Auror training.  He tucked the photo into his pocket, picked up the small box with his personal belongings in it, waved his wand to snuff out the ever-burning candles, and left his office.    
  
            He was met outside the door of his office by a throng of Aurors and Hit Wizards.  
  
            Harry laughed.  “I see that my plans to sneak out of here unnoticed went well.”  
  
            “Conner tipped us off!” shouted a voice from near the back.  
  
            His friends and co-workers all wished him well and patted him on the back.  Harry made his goodbyes as quickly as possible without seeming rude.  Finally, he escaped his friends and made his way to the lift.  Ron was leaning against the wall by the lift, waiting for him, his new Senior Auror badge pinned to his robes.  
  
            He saw Harry coming and stepped forward to greet him.  He held out his hand to his friend.  Harry ignored the hand, choosing instead to hug Ron roughly.    
  
            “We’ll miss you around here,” Ron said huskily.  
  
            Harry shoved him back with a chuckle.  “It’s not like you won’t see me, you know.  Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?”  
  
             Ron gave him a friendly push back.  “We’ll see you at eight.”  
  
             The lift arrived and Harry stepped onto it.  He punched the button for the Atrium and waited until the doors closed until he turned around.  Only his reflection in the polished steel saw his face sag as he left his old life behind.  
  
   


* * *

  
  
  
  
             Molly expertly used her wand to hem some of Fred’s old robes and let them out.  Ginny watched interestedly from her chair where she sat nursing Lily.    
  
             “I’ve never understood how you can do that so well,” Ginny said.  
  
             Molly looked up and smiled at the sight of her grand-daughter and her daughter.  “Do what, dear?”  
  
             “If I tried to let out those robes and hem them, I’d end up with a pile of scraps and loose thread.”  She closed her shirt and put Lily over her shoulder to burp her.  
  
             Molly laughed.  “That happened a few times to me in the early days.  We were really poor after we had Bill, and then Charlie came along.”  She smiled in reminiscence.  “I didn’t really have much choice but to learn how to alter clothes since we couldn’t afford new ones.”  
  
             Ginny sighed.  “I know we’re lucky to have enough money to live comfortably, but I feel bad sometimes thinking about the sacrifices you made to raise us.”  She stood and paced with Lily over her shoulder still, rocking her gently.  Lily fussed and waved her little pink arms.  
  
             Molly put down the robes she’d been working on, crossed to Ginny and took Lily from her.  She held Lily close to her bosom and cooed at her.  Ginny laughed at her mum as she babbled at Lily.  Lily started to fall asleep, her eyes drooping more and more each second.  
  
             “Every sacrifice we made for you children was worth it.”  Molly lay Lily down into a bassinet.  “We’re so proud of all of you.”  She returned to her chair and began sewing again, this time with needle and thread.  “Do you ever regret giving up Quidditch to raise a family?”  
  
             Ginny looked at Lily breathing deeply, asleep in the bassinet.  “Never.”  
  
             She turned back to Molly.  “Mum, are you sure about this?”  
  
             “About what?”  
  
             Ginny moved to sit next to her mother.  “About taking care of another child: are you sure you’re up to it?”  
  
             Molly reached down and took Ginny’s hand.  “Absolutely.  Anything we can do to help George is going to be paid back to us by watching him as he grows.”  She smiled as thought back to her children.  “Besides, he’s already paid us back by saving Percy.”  
  
             “He was lucky to only come out of that with a broken leg,” Ginny said.  
  
             Molly laughed lightly.  “After dealing with the insurance adjusters, he doesn’t feel lucky.  They don’t want to pay; they said it was a ‘Muggle incident.’”  
  
             Ginny laughed along with her mum.  “If they’re trying to push papers against Percy, they’ll lose that fight.”  
  
             The conversation stopped for a few moments while Molly stitched and Ginny silently watched her daughter sleep.    
  
             “Did the Healers find anything wrong with him?” Ginny asked.  “George, I mean.”  
  
             Molly shook her head.  “No, they said it sounded like a prophecy, but none of them had ever actually seen anyone prophesying, so they were just guessing.”  
  
             “Harry saw Professor Trelawney prophesy once and he said it wasn’t at all the same.”  She looked nervously at her mother.  “He said that she spoke in a funny voice and didn’t remember it afterward.  Did George remember it?”  
  
             “He won’t talk about it, but I think he does remember it, and he blames himself for what happened.”  Molly sighed.  “I’ve thanked him for saving Percy, and let him know that it’s not his fault, but he’s so scared he’s going to hurt us.”  
  
             She stood and billowed out the newly altered robes.  She opened the door and shouted out of it, down the stairs, “George, could you come up here, please?”  
  
             A few moments later, George came trudging up the stairs.  He breathed hard and his face was red from the exertion of climbing the stairs.  Molly looked on, concerned.  
  
             Ginny whispered to her mother, “You’re making him climb the stairs deliberately to get exercise, aren’t you?”  
  
             Molly nodded, a tight grin on her face.  When George finally made it up the stairs, he waited outside.  
  
             “Is she done?” he asked from around the corner of the doorframe.  
  
             Molly looked around.  “Is who done with what?”  
  
             Ginny stepped out and looked at George.  His face wasn’t just red with exertion, but also embarrassment.  Ginny laughed as she figured out what was bothering him.  
  
             “Yes, I’m done nursing Lily and she’s asleep now.”  
  
             He went by her into the room.  Molly held out the robes   
  
             “Just slip them on over your clothes and we’ll see how they fit,” Molly told him.  
  
             George slipped the robes on and tried to close them.  They still wouldn’t close.  Molly took another measurement and had him take the robes off.  
  
             His eyes started brimming with tears as he moved to leave the room.  Molly stopped him.  “What’s wrong, George?” she asked.  
  
             He began crying.  “I’m so fat; I’ll never fit in those robes.”  He sat down on the floor and began to blubber in earnest.  
  
            Molly sat down next to him, put her arms around him and began to soothe him.   Ginny crossed the room to get her purse.  She dug until she found her pocketbook in it.  She pulled out a couple of Muggle photographs.  
  
             She sat on the other side of George and handed him one of the photographs.  The photo showed a large man standing outside a gym that advertised boxing lessons.    
  
             “Who-who’s this?” he asked in between snuffling.    
  
              Ginny smiled as she handed him the other photo.  “That’s Harry’s cousin, Dudley.  This is what he looked like as a boy.”    
  
             George looked back and forth between the two photos.  His tears dried up.  He began to wipe his nose on the sleeve of his shirt, but Molly stopped him and told him to use his handkerchief.  He pulled his handkerchief out, blew his nose noisily and stood.  
  
             “It’s hard,” he began, but stopped.  He kept his head hung down.  Molly lifted his head with her hand.  “It’s hard,” he stalled again before spitting the next words out in a rush.  “It’s hard being made fun of because you’re fat.”  His eyes started to fill with tears again.  “The other kids always made fun of me because I was fat and my Mum was fat, and we were on the dole.”  
  
             Ginny rose and hugged him.  He stiffened, still not comfortable with affection from his new family.  “People made fun of us for being poor, too, but we all came out fine.”  She released him.  “I know how much it hurts to be made fun of.”  
  
             George looked back down at the ground.  “But, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.  
  
             Ginny laughed.  “When I was your age, I was a gangly tom-boy with skinned knees.”  She grinned.  “Six older brothers, how could I be anything but?”  
  
             She took George’s hand.  “Would you like to learn how to fly?”  
  
             He looked at her.  “Fly?” he asked.    
  
             “I’ll look after Lily.”  Molly crossed back to her chair and began working on the robes again.  
  
             “Fly,” Ginny said.  “There’s nothing better.”  
  
             He nodded.  She kept his hand in hers and they went down the stairs together.  
  
   


* * *

  
  
  
  
            George floated three feet off the ground, his hands in a death-grip around the broom as Ginny walked at his side.  She kept a hand on the broom’s handle, guiding it.  George began to slip to one side.  Ginny released the handle to steady him and the front of the broom lifted suddenly and shot into the air.  George fell backwards off it and landed heavily on the ground.  Ginny also fell.  George stood first and began laughing at the sight of the broom circling lazily in the air about twenty feet up.  
  
             _“Accio broom!”_ shouted a voice from near the garden gate.  
  
             They both turned to watch as the broom zipped into the newcomer’s hands.  George Weasley walked up to them as they stood.  He held out his hand to the boy.    
  
            “George Weasley,” he said, waiting for the boy to shake his hand.  
  
             George Krupp tentatively held out his hand, raising it slowly.  George Weasley grabbed it and shook it heartily.  
  
             “So, two Georges in the family ought to be confusing.”  George looked down at his new brother.  “What do you say to going by G.K.?” he asked.  
  
             George shook his head.  “Don’t like nicknames.”  
  
             George Weasley laughed.  “I do like nicknames, so why don’t I go by W, just to avoid confusion?”  
  
             The boy laughed.  “Like the American president?” he asked.  
  
             George made a disgusted face.  “Hmm, maybe I’ll go by G.W. instead.  How’s that?”  
  
             The boy nodded silently and shuffled his feet.  
  
             “Flying lessons?” G.W. asked.  The boy nodded.    
  
             “Nobody better in this family to learn from,” he said, handing the broom to Ginny.  “She flies better than Charlie, or even Harry, and they both could have played for England.”  He  pushed her a bit.  “Show the boy what you can do.”  
  
             Ginny shook her head.  
  
             G.W. sidled up to George, who drew back a little at his approach.  He spoke out of the side of his mouth at the boy.  “She’s afraid she’s lost it since she’s had another baby.”  
  
             Ginny pushed him back with the handle of the broom.  “I’ll show you who’s lost it.”  She mounted and began flying in a figure-eight warm-up pattern.  George beckoned for the boy to follow him to the shed.  He opened the shed and pulled out a battered wooden case.  There were balls strapped inside it, straining to get out.  He took a large red ball about the size of a football from it and a smaller black ball that he held tightly against his body.  He handed the red ball to the boy and grabbed a bat that the boy thought looked similar to a cricket bat.    
  
             “Throw the ball to her,” G.W. said, straining to keep the black ball from shooting out of his grasp.  
  
             The boy threw the ball toward Ginny, but missed her by a good thirty feet.  It appeared the ball would hit the ground, but it began slowing after it started to fall.  Ginny swooped on it in a long dive.  At just about the same time she started her dive, George released the black ball and struck it firmly with his bat.  
  
             The black ball drove right at Ginny, curving slightly in its flight as she flew.  She let it get close to her before she swung upside down, clinging to the broom with one hand.  The black ball flew over the broom where she had been just a second before.  Still upside down, she caught and accurately threw the red ball back to the boy, who caught it.  She swung back up on the broom and turned to dive at her brother.  The black ball whistled along behind her.  
  
             “Get behind me!” G.W. yelled as Ginny swooped right past him.  The boy moved behind him.  The black ball came zooming along behind Ginny.  As it came near the two on the ground, it changed direction at G.W.  He caught it with a grunt of effort and wrestled it back into the crate as George and Ginny played catch with the red ball.  The boy would throw the ball into the air and Ginny would catch it.  She’d then throw it back to him.  He seemed amazed that no matter how badly he threw it that she would always catch it; she never missed.  
  
            She landed and put away the broom and ball while George began explaining Quidditch to the boy.  Every once in a while, Ginny corrected him when he got something wrong.    
  
             They were still sitting on the ground talking Quidditch when a strange looking woman wearing bright orange robes walked in with three toddlers by her side.  The two dark-haired boys shouted when they saw Ginny and began running toward her.  Ginny rose and ran to them.  She grabbed them up and swung them around.  They began to tell her about their day at the zoo with Auntie Luna.    
  
             The toddler girl stayed by the strange looking woman, and looked fearfully at George and G.W.  She held out her hands to be picked up as they got nearer.  The pale blonde woman picked her up.  The girl clung to her neck, her eyes getting wider as they approached.  The woman spoke soothingly to the girl.    
  
             When they got closer, George noticed that the girl’s left leg was crooked and seemed to be healing: the skin on it was red and angry and there was a bandage around her ankle.  
  
             Ginny moved to the stranger and took the girl, who buried her head in Ginny’s mass of red hair.  George heard the girl’s voice carried on the wind.  
  
             “Aunt Ginny, who’s that?”  
  
             Ginny patted the girls back and answered back.  “You know your Uncle George.”  G.W. put his finger in his mouth and made a popping noise.  The girl giggled, and then drew back again.  “And that’s your new cousin, George Krupp.”  
  
             The girl peeked out at George from behind Ginny’s hair.  “Why doesn’t he have red hair?”  
  
             Ginny laughed and touched the girl’s brown hair.  “Why don’t you have red hair?  
  
             The girl giggled again.  “Because Mummy has brown hair.”  The girl’s tone of voice made it clear that should be understood.  
  
             The boys had come up to George.  The older one tugged on George’s shirt.  “Hi, I’m James.  My daddy’s Harry Potter!”  
  
             The younger boy squatted down and started to poke a stick at a gnome hiding behind a rose bush.  The boy gripping George’s shirt kept talking.  “That’s my brother Albus and that’s my cousin Rose.”  He beckoned George to lean over.  When George did, James whispered, “She’s a girl.”  
  
            George nodded gravely at James as G.W. greeted the strange woman.  She noticed George looking at her and came over.  
  
             After her bright orange robes, the next things he noticed was her pale blonde hair and her silvery eyes.  When she spoke she had a pleasant, dreamy voice that lulled the listener.  “You must be George; I’m Luna.”  She held out her hand and he shook it.    
  
             She knelt down by him, not caring that her robe got muddy.  “I hear you’re going to be staying with the Weasleys.”  He nodded and hung his head, not meeting her eyes.  
  
             She patted him on the shoulder.  “You’ll love it here.”  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a book.  She held it out to him.  He raised his head to look at it.  ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander’ was emblazoned on the cover.  She pushed it into his hands.  “Take it; it’s going to be one of your books when you go to Hogwarts.”  She handed another book to Ginny.  “I have one for Teddy as well.  The new edition has all of Rolf’s corrections and additions.”  
  
             Ginny took the book.  “Don’t forget your additions as well.”  
  
            Luna smiled widely and laughed a loud, braying, but pleasant laugh.  “And my additions as well,” she told George.  
  
             “Thank you,” George said in a very small voice.  
  
             Molly’s voice from the doorway interrupted.  “Come on in everyone, tea will be done soon.”  
  
             Luna embraced Ginny, holding Rose between them for a moment.  “Thanks for taking the kids to the zoo,” Ginny said.  “Are you sure you won’t come in for tea?”  
  
             Luna pulled back and embraced George Weasley who pretended like she was squeezing him too hard by bugging out his eyes.  Luna laughed at him and said, “No, thanks.  Rolf’s expecting me home for dinner with his parents tonight.”  
  
             Luna waved as she walked out of the garden.  G.W. and Ginny led the way into the house, with George right behind them.  Behind him, James and Albus came, arguing all the way about who would sit next to George at tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my beta, Bella_Portia. Any errors you still find are mine and mine alone.


	5. Watched from Above

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to retrieve Mittens from the shelter and has encounters with two very strange people.

  
            Harry stretched and rose from bed; it had been good to sleep late, for once.  Ginny had left earlier to spend the day at the Burrow, and Harry needed to retrieve Mittens from the animal shelter.  He put on Muggle clothing; jeans, trainers, t-shirt, and a jacket.  After he made sure that his glasses were clean, he waved his wand to make his safe appear.  It had been cleverly concealed with an illusion to look like an ordinary laundry hamper, complete with dirty laundry.  He opened the safe, took out a small pile of Galleons and Muggle cash.  His hand hesitated over his gun, but after checking to make sure its trigger guard was locked, he left it.  He closed the safe and made it look like a dirty laundry hamper again.  
  
            He checked himself one last time in the mirror, and combed his hair down again before Disapparating.    
  
            He appeared near the graveyard in Ottery St. Catchpole.  He always liked the walk from the graveyard into town, so he took his time.  He pulled the card that Jim Philby had given him with the address for the RSPCA shelter and looked at it again.  It was in the Muggle section of town, near George’s old house.  He set off at a brisk pace, enjoying the late morning sun.    
  
            He arrived before the shelter opened, so he went to a fancy coffee shop and bought a plain black coffee.  The shopkeeper glared at him when he kept insisting on a plain, black coffee.  He glanced at his watch again as he exited the shop, spilling his coffee on his jeans.  He made sure no one was watching as he cleaned the spot with his wand.    
  
            Sipping his coffee as he walked, he noticed a mud-streaked old tramp handing out leaflets.  The man wore an intricately folded tinfoil hat, and was shouting something about ‘The Aliens.’  Bemused, Harry sat on a bench in a small park near the animal shelter and watched as passers-by ignored the leaflets.  A woman pushing a pram made a wide circle around the man.  The tramp’s shoulders slumped, and he sat down on the pavement.  As he sat, he caught sight of Harry and waved him to come over.  
  
            Harry shook his head and pointed at his coffee.  The tramp turned away from Harry.  After a moment, the tramp rose unsteadily and staggered to where Harry sat.  
  
            As the tramp approached, Harry noticed the man’s filthy jeans and his torn plaid shirt.  When the tramp reached Harry, he held out a leaflet.  
  
            “Brother, have you seen the silver light?” he asked Harry.  
  
            Harry nearly dropped his coffee when he recognised the coded call sign.  He looked more closely at the tramp; now revealed as a disguised Hit Wizard.  Harry responded with the correct counter-sign, “Enlighten me.”  He took the leaflet, and waited for the disguised Hit Wizard to move on before he read it.  
  
   
  


_The Saucers are Coming_

  
  


> >   
>  _Have you seen them in the sky?  They come in the night and spirit us away!  They are coming for your family, and your children, too!  These creatures want us for their twisted experiments!  I have watched the night sky for years and have seen them with my own eyes!_
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> _Don’t believe the so-called authorities.  They speak only lies!! They don’t want you to learn the truth!  They have known about these creatures since the time of George III!  They are the reason he went mad!!  Do you want to go mad?  If you don’t want to go mad, you’ll follow my instructions.  Others have ignored me and they have been driven insane by the alien geometry beamed into our brains by these creatures!!!_
>> 
>>  
>> 
>> _Follow my instructions and you will be amazed!!!  My patented tinfoil hat will keep you safe, but only if you follow the instructions precisely!!!  Fold a ten-inch square of tinfoil into a triangle, but not a perfect triangle, as this will only attract them!!!  Fold the edges over and shape the hat to fit your head!  Only this will keep you safe!_   
> 

  
  
  
            Harry looked at the hand-drawn illustration of how to fold the tinfoil hat carefully.  He recognised the motions as being similar to those used in charms to prevent magical spying.  He relaxed his eyes and let the words on the leaflet dance as his eyes grew unfocussed.  The charm on the words activated and he read.  
  
            _You are watched.  Don’t speak about George to others.  Will keep you informed._  
  
  
  
           

  
 

  
  
            Harry blinked and looked around in spite of himself.  He didn’t notice anyone out of place.    
  
            He stood and crumpled the leaflet, destroying the Charm on it.  As he walked by a bin, he threw the leaflet and the dregs of his coffee into it.  He felt the familiar paranoid itching of being watched.  He went by a book store and pretended to look at the window display.  He used the reflection on the glass to look behind him.  He still didn’t see anything amiss.  He sighed and continued on to the shelter.  
  
            He went to the door of the shelter and waited.  He only had to wait a few minutes before a pleasant woman opened the door.  
  
            “Looking to adopt today?” she asked as she ushered him in.  
  
Harry looked around at the clean, but worn-down office.  It smelled of animals and disinfectant.  He smiled at the woman pleasantly.  She clipped on a name-badge that said her name was Susan.  
  
            “I’ve come to retrieve my nephew’s cat and her kittens; they were taken when the boy’s mother passed away.”  He pulled a letter that Hermione had drafted for him from his pocket and handed it to her.  
  
            She read it quietly for a moment before she lifted her face to look at Harry.  Her face was blotched with anger.  “I don’t care if you are the boy’s uncle; I’m not releasing that cat or her kittens to you.”  
  
            Harry’s smile faltered.  “What?  Why not?”  
  
            Susan pulled a file out from under the counter.  She shoved it roughly in front of Harry.  “Read for yourself.  When that cat came in, she was malnourished and both her and her two kittens had bellies full of worms.  Their cat tray was filled with newspaper, not cat gravel and it was overflowing!”  She was starting to colour as she got into the flow of her rant.  “I’m never going to give that cat to anyone from that family!”  
  
            “I assure you that my wife and I can take care of the cat and her kittens,” Harry answered, doing his best to appear inoffensive.  
  
             Susan snatched the file away from Harry.  “If you and your wife can take care of them, then why didn’t you do it before?”  
  
            Harry hung his head and lied.  “My sister-in-law wouldn’t let us in the house.  Whenever we’d show up to check on her and my nephew, she’d call the police and say we were harassing her.  We were starting procedures with Social Services to have her son- my nephew – given to us.”  He lifted his head and met her eyes.  “We were concerned enough about my nephew that we were consulting a solicitor about seeking custody.  We didn’t even realise there were animals until after she died.”   
  
            Susan snorted disbelievingly.  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”  Harry involuntarily took a step back from her vehemence.  
  
            She turned away from Harry as a young couple entered the office.  She greeted them warmly and pulled their file out from under the desk.  Harry stayed standing at the counter.    
  
            “Are you still here?”  
  
            As she ushered the other couple into the back, Harry turned and left.  He went to the alley behind the shelter and flipped open his mobile to call a Muggle acquaintance he’d worked with undercover in an MI-5 operation.  He’d had to infiltrate the operation using his MI-5 cover to make sure the wizard that the Muggle authorities had apprehended didn’t talk.   
  
            The phone rang only once before a male voice answered.  “Yes?”  
  
            Harry recognised the voice.  “Mark, this is Harold Peters,” he said, giving the voice his MI-5 cover identity.  “I need a favour.”  
  
             The voice paused only a second.  “Anything for you, Harold.  What do you need?”  
  
            “I need a letter forged and faxed to an RSPCA shelter in Ottery St. Catchpole.”  Harry smiled as he pictured Susan’s response to what he had planned.  
  
            There was a bark of laughter on the phone.  “Do I get to know why?”  
  
            “It’s personal,” Harry answered and filled him in on what he needed.  
  
            When he was done, Mark’s voice came back over the phone.  “No problem; I’ll have that ready in about half an hour and I’ll fax it to the number you gave me.”  
  
            “Thanks, Mark.  I owe you one.”  
  
            “No, mate, I still owe you.”  The line went dead.  
  
            Harry went back to the fancy coffee shop and annoyed the shopkeeper again by ordering another plain, black coffee and a plain croissant.  The shopkeeper kept trying to sell him some kind of fancy iced coffee and a huge scone, but Harry kept insisting on a plain coffee and croissant.  
  
            He went back to the park where he ate his dry croissant and drank his stale coffee.  After half an hour he went back to the animal shelter.  
  
            As he came in the door, Susan looked up from the fax she’d been reading.  She saw him and flushed.  
  
             “I’m so sorry, I didn’t believe you, Mr. Peters,” she stammered.  “We get so many abused and neglected animals here and…”  She flushed and waved the fax.  “I...I’ve only seen a letter of recommendation from the director once before.”  
  
            Harry waved his hand.  “I understand, and it’s okay.”  He smiled again.  “You were just doing your job.”  
  
            Tears filled her eyes as she clutched the letter to chest.  “Please don’t tell the director how rude I was to you, Mr. Peters.”  She shook slightly.  “I’ve already got two complaints on my record.  One more and they’ll give me the sack.”  
  
             “Really, it’s okay,” Harry said.  “I just want to pick up the cat and her kittens.”  
  
             She wiped her tears and escorted him into the back room which was filled with animals in cages.  She led him to a section filled with cats.  Harry looked over the other animals on the way back.  He stopped and looked a large, bushy-tailed ferret.  
  
             “Where’d you get the ferret?” he asked.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so big.”  
  
             Susan looked at the chart and Harry surreptitiously scanned the ferret with his wand.  He’d just slid his wand back into his jeans when Susan looked up.  
  
             She consulted the chart again.  “Says here it was captured two days ago in a local garden, chewing on a garden gnome and growling.”  It took a second for Harry to realise that she meant a statue and not an actual gnome.  
  
  She looked up at Harry.  “We tested it and it’s not rabid, but if it’s not adopted soon, we’ll probably have to destroy it.  Not many people want to adopt a large male ferret who hasn’t been descented.”  
  
            Harry almost choked.  His scan had shown it was a Jarvey that had a silence charm on it that was about to wear off.  She was in for a very rude surprise if the charm wore off.  
  
            “I’d like to adopt it, as well.”   
  
            Susan cocked her head at him.  “I can’t recommend having a ferret in a house with kittens.”  
  
             “Don’t worry.  I’ve raised ferrets before, and I have experience with them,” Harry lied, using his wand behind his back to reinforce his words.  “I’ll keep him away from the kittens.”  
  
             She grinned at him, her attitude bolstered by the mood-altering Charm he had used.  “I’ll draw up the paperwork after we take care of the cat and kittens.”  
  
            The Jarvey eyed Harry warily, having seen him with his wand out.  Its little mouth moved, silently cursing at him.  
  
             Susan retrieved Mittens and her kittens, and Harry got his first good look at her.  She was a tiny black cat with white-tipped paws.  She had a white muzzle and a small white spot right on the tip of her tail.  Her kittens were soft balls of black fur with occasional white spots and bright blue eyes.  They mewed pitifully when Susan disturbed them from their sleep and placed them in a carrier next to their mother.  
  
            “It’s going to be a few more weeks before they can be weaned and put on solid foods.”  Susan put a water bottle on the outside of the carrier.  “Bring the kittens in three months and we’ll give them their next shots and neuter them.”  
  
            “They’re both male, then?” Harry asked.     
  
Susan nodded and finished packing up the carrier.  Harry took the carrier and looked at Mittens huddled protectively at the back.  When he lifted his hand to the grate to be sniffed, she approached and cautiously smelled him.  She licked him once and then went back to her kittens.  
  
            Susan put on a pair of heavy leather gloves before opening the cage with the Jarvey.  “Be careful of this one; he bites.”  The Jarvey tried to duck around her when she opened the cage, but Susan expertly blocked it with her left hand and snatched it up by the scruff of its neck with her right hand.  It spewed silent curses on her as well.  Harry covered his mouth with his hands to cover his laughter.  
  
            Susan stuffed the Jarvey into a crate and put a bottle on the outside of it.  As her hand got near the entrance, the Jarvey reached out with a paw and tried to pull off her glove.  She pulled back quickly.  The Jarvey lifted its paw in an undeniable rude gesture.  Susan shook her head, refusing to believe what she had just seen.  
  
The Jarvey turned its attention to the water bottle.  It drank greedily and then spit the water in a stream in Susan’s face.  She spluttered.  “I’ve never seen a ferret do that before.”  She started looking more closely at it.  Harry Confunded her, again wielding his wand behind his back.  
  
            She shook her head again, and led Harry back to the desk to complete the paperwork.  Harry put the carrier with the Jarvey down on the ground, and while he was hidden by the desk, he made sure the lock couldn’t be opened by the creature’s clever paws by enchanting the lock.  He put the carrier with Mittens and her kittens on the desk.  One of the kittens came up to Harry and put his cold, wet nose on Harry’s finger.  He looked at Harry and mewed.  Harry rubbed the kitten’s head through the grate and the kitten purred as he rubbed Harry back with his cheeks.  
  
            Susan took care of all the paperwork and Harry signed it dutifully.  She handed him two thick packets detailing when the animals needed veterinary visits and how to care for them.  He was shocked at how much the adoption fee for the ‘ferret’ was and barely had enough Muggle money to pay.  
  
            As he gathered up the crates and headed out, the Silence Charm on the Jarvey started to fail.  “Fuckin’ wizards, I’ll eat their livers.”  
  
            Susan looked up from where she’d been entering the forms onto her computer.  “What did you say?” she asked.  
  
            Harry faked a coughing fit as the Jarvey cursed some more.  “I said, ‘Thanks, Susan.’”  He exited and immediately went behind the building into the alley.  He reapplied the Silence Charm to the Jarvey as it called him rude names.  It went silent, but its mouth kept moving.  When Harry got his hand too close to the grate it tried to bite him.  Mittens hissed at the Jarvey from her crate.    
  
             Harry pulled a small notepad and a pen from his back pocket.  He wrote a note, stuck it to the Jarvey’s crate with a Sticking charm, and used a Banishing to send it to Rolf’s house.  It disappeared with a pop.  Rolf would counter the Silence Charm and release the Jarvey back into the wild, hopefully far from Muggles.  
  
            He picked up the crate with Mittens and her kittens and set off on the long walk to the Burrow.  He put his face up to the grate.  “Yes, that’s right.  I don’t want to Apparate with your kittens.  I don’t think they’d like it much.”  Mittens glared at him, her back still arched and her tail still puffed from the Jarvey.  
  
            He took off his jacket and put it over the cat crate to keep the sun off the crate.  The sun had started to rise higher and it was getting warm.  He set off on the long walk from the Muggle section to the outskirts and the Burrow.  
  
            His path took him past the cemetery again and he watched as a woman laid flowers on a grave.  He looked away quickly, not wanting to intrude on her grief.  The sun rose higher and he began to sweat.  He crossed the road that led to the Lovegood house and almost stopped.  A soft cry from the crate changed his mind.  
  
            He sat the crate down, removed his jacket from over it, and looked into it.  Mittens was pawing at the water bottle.  Harry pulled the water bottle off the crate and examined it. The spigot had been crimped somehow and the water wasn’t flowing.  Harry bent the spigot back and it snapped off, spilling out all the water.    
  
            He cut down the bottle with his wand and made a shallow bowl with the top of the bottle.   He filled the bowl with water that he summoned from his wand.  Next, he opened the crate and stuck the bowl to the inside of the crate with a Sticking Charm.  He waited while Mittens drank.  After she had drunk, her kittens each took a couple of drinks before they settled back down next to their mother and watched Harry.  
  
            He covered the crate again with his jacket again and went back on his way.   
  
             After another half an hour, he crossed the wards protecting the Burrow from curious Muggle eyes and went in through the garden gate.  When he got to the other side of the wards, he added the ward for prevention of magical spying to the protections on the Burrow.  
  
             He turned around to go to the house, but something seemed wrong. He looked around carefully and noticed the shed door had been left open and the box with the Quidditch balls in it had been moved.  He searched the shed thoroughly, wand out.  Satisfied that it was empty, he put the box back on its shelf and closed the door.  
  
             A gnome skittered away from him as he crossed the garden to the kitchen door.  He opened the door and heard James shout.  “Daddy!”  
  
             Two small figures streaked from the table and latched onto his legs.  Harry saw Molly, George Weasley, George Krupp, and Ginny with Lily in a sling on her chest enjoying an afternoon tea.  James and Albus both held out their hands and clamoured to be picked up.  Harry put the cat crate down and picked up his sons.  He embraced them both and then put them back down.  
  
             Harry looked around.  “Where’s Rose?  I thought she went to the zoo with the boys.”  
  
  Molly answered, “I put her down for a nap.  She was exhausted, the poor thing.”  
  
  “Probably for the best,” Harry said.  “I don’t think she’s ready to see me again yet.”  
  
  He picked up the crate and went to George Weasley.  He clapped George on the back.  “When did you get back from France?”  
  
  Albus and James babbled at Harry, each trying to tell him about their day at the zoo with Auntie Luna.  Ginny shushed them and told them to go back to their seats.  Albus went right away, but James hesitated a moment before reluctantly returning to his seat.     
  
            George laughed at the boys.  “Angelina and I got back last night.”  
  
             Harry grinned.  “Still haven’t popped the question yet?”  
  
            George blushed a bit.  “If I do, you’ll be the thirty-third to know.”  Everyone laughed.  
  
            Harry grabbed an empty chair and slid it next to George Krupp.  He put the cat crate on the chair and removed his jacket from over it.  
  
            George smiled.  It was the first real smile Harry had ever seen on his face.  He reached out and Mittens came right up to the door.  When he opened the grate, Mittens looked around cautiously at all the strangers and the strange house.  She refused to come out of the crate, but she did rub against George’s fingers before she curled up around her kittens again.  
  
            George stood and surprised Harry by hugging him.  “Thank you, Mr. Potter.”  
  
             Harry hugged him back and Molly put her napkin to her eyes.  “You’re welcome, George; and I asked you to call me Harry.”  He tousled the boy’s hair.  
  
            George turned to Molly.  “Please, may I take her to my room?”  
  
            “You’re excused George,” she told him.  As he closed the grate on the crate and left, she called after him.  “I’ll dig out Charlie’s old cat tray and some sand and bring them up in a moment.”  
  
            They heard George climbing the stairs to his room, his treads echoing down the stairs and into the kitchen.  
  
            Harry sat down and poured a cup of tea.  Ginny grasped his hand in greeting and smiled at him.  “You would not believe what I had to go through to get that cat.”  He told the story of his morning at the shelter.  James laughed, but Albus looked confused.  
  
            “You should have taken the silence charm off the Jarvey,” George Weasley said around a mouthful of toast.  
  
            “That woman would have deserved it.  She was very unpleasant, until I got a ‘recommendation’ from the director.”  Harry laughed.  “But I didn’t want to have to call out the Obliviators if the Silence Charm wore off.”  
  
              Harry thought for a moment as he drank from his mug.  “Umm, it might be confusing have two Georges here...”  
  
              George stuffed another piece of toast into his mouth.  “The boy and I have already decided.  He’ll be George and I’ll be G.W. when we’re both together.”  
  
             “How was he when he met you?” Harry asked, taking a piece of toast and smearing it with some marmalade.  
  
             George leaned back in his chair.  “He was nervous, and seemed scared of how’d I’d react to him.”  
  
             “You did great,” Ginny said from her seat.  She turned to Harry.  “We showed him a bit of Quidditch and he got his first flying lesson today.”  
  
            Harry kissed Ginny lightly, getting a small smear of marmalade on her cheek.  “Did you teach him, or did George?”  
  
            “I did, of course,” she answered.  “We only want him to learn from the best.”  They all laughed again.  She wiped the marmalade from her face.  
  
            George stood and shook the crumbs off his robes.  “I’ve got to get back to the shop.”  He hugged his mother, shook hands with Harry, hugged Ginny, and then he gave James and Albus each something small from his pocket before Ginny could object.  “I’ll see you all soon.”  He turned and Disapparated.  
  
            Albus and James opened the small packages that George had given them and they each immediately started blowing the Eiffel Tower-shaped whistle that had been inside.  Molly and Harry laughed, and Ginny sighed.  
  
            “Just like George to give them something noisy!” she shouted over the whistling.  She stood and started clearing the table.  “Okay, boys, outside!  Whistles are an outside toy only!”  
  
            Albus and James each rose and went through the door into the garden.  She could see them from the window as they chased gnomes with their whistles.  The gnomes held their hands over their ears as they ran.  When the gnomes went into a hole, the boys would get right up to the entrance and blow their whistles into it.    
  
            Molly started helping Ginny with the dishes.  She turned to Harry.  “Could you get the sand and the cat tray from the shed, please?  I think the tray is on the top shelf near the tent.”  
  
             Harry nodded and went out to the shed.    
  
             Albus came barrelling up to him, blowing his whistle.  “Look, daddy, I’ve got a whistle.”  
  
             “That’s nice, Al.  May I see your whistle?”  Albus held it up to his father.  Harry took his wand and pointed it at the whistle, and then he handed it back.  Albus ran off, tooting on the whistle that only he could hear now.  
  
             Harry opened the shed and dug around in it until he found the cat tray and a bag of sand.  He’d have to introduce Molly to the wonders of Muggle clumping cat gravel.  He filled the cat tray with sand and carried it inside, up to George’s room.  George had taken Percy’s old room overlooking the garden.  
  
             When Harry entered he saw George sitting on the bed with Mittens in his lap purring, and the two kittens playing with a shoelace on the blanket.  Harry put the cat tray down in the corner of the room between the wall and a dresser.  He sat down on the bed next to George and looked out the window.  His sons had cornered a gnome and were tooting their whistles at it.  The gnome did not seem bothered by Albus’ silent whistle and ran past him into hole.  Albus chased it and James ran to the fence where Hermione was coming in with Crookshanks in her arms.   
  
             Hermione looked curiously at the area above the fence when she came in.  She pulled her wand and put it up to the wards.  Her wand-tip glowed blue for a second and she yanked it away.  She looked up and saw Harry watching her from the window.  She waved at him as she crossed the garden.  Harry waved back, and then turned to watch George.  
  
             George was still petting Mittens.  “Thanks again, Harry.”  His voice was so quiet.  “Mittens is the only animal who’s ever liked me.  Dogs usually growl and try to bite me, and cats always avoid me.”  He looked up at Harry.    
  
             Harry smiled back down at him.  “How do you like it here so far?”  
  
             George looked around at his room; it was worn, but comfortable.  “It’s nice.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are really nice.”  He lowered his voice.  “They make me do chores.  I’ve never had chores before.”  
  
             “You never had to wash the dishes or help with cleaning?” Harry asked.  
  
             “My mum didn’t clean and I’d only wash a dish if I needed it to eat with.”  He turned his head back down to Mittens who was now gathering up her kittens to nurse.  
  
             “You’ll get used to it,” Harry said.  They could hear Hermione’s voice from downstairs.  Harry continued, “There’s always something to be done on a small farm like the Burrow.”  He was about to say something more when they heard Hermione call from downstairs.  
  
             “Harry, could you come down, please?” she shouted up the stairs.  
  
             Harry rose and left.  George followed him down the stairs.  
  
             Hermione sat at the table with a thick manila folder in her hands.  “As I was leaving today, I found this in my desk, with a note from Conner to give it to you.”  She slid it across to Harry.  “He left it in my office, in the warded drawer of my desk, where he knew only I would find it.”  Her face grew grave.  “You should read it in private.”  
  
             Harry took the folder, and opened it.  It read ‘Orientation for new Hogwarts staff,’ but when he started to read it, a sealed envelope with ‘Autopsy result for Georgina Wilhelmina Krupp’ on it fell onto the table.  He grabbed it before George saw what it said and quickly closed it again.  “I’ll go read this right now.”  He started to leave, but then turned back.  “Where’s Crookshanks?  I saw you carrying him when you came in?”  
  
             Hermione gestured out the door.  “Molly had asked me to bring him to help with de-gnoming the garden, but it looks like James and Albus had already pretty much taken care of that.”  
  
             The door opened and James and Albus marched in with Crookshanks on their heels.  Ginny held out her hands and took the boy’s whistles when they came in, James only giving his up reluctantly.  The boys went into the living room and started wrestling.  
  
             Crookshanks went up to Hermione and started to leap into her lap.  He paused, lifted his muzzle and sniffed.  His tail bushed out and he began to walk to George with his legs stiff and his back slightly arched.    
  
             “Don’t be scared,” Hermione said.  “He just wants to sniff you over.”  
  
             George held out a shaking hand for Crookshanks to sniff.  Crookshanks growled as he sniffed.  He sniffed George for a few seconds before his back went down and his tail shrank to its normal size.  He began to purr and rub at George’s legs.  
  
            George scratched Crookshanks behind the ears.  His purring grew louder.  
  
            Harry met Hermione’s eyes and they both smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter image by psi from TDA.  
>  Many thanks to my beta reader, Bella_Portia. She lets me know when I’ve gone off the rails. The character of ‘Susan’ was based on a worker in an animal shelter that a relative of mine actually ran into. I realize it was a very long chapter, but it was a single self-contained chapter and couldn’t be broken in two very easily.


	6. A New Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry discovers something surprising about George's mother. Rose has an unpleasant shock.

      Crookshanks finally grew tired of George’s attention and wandered off.  George stood from the kitchen table and wiped the fur off his jeans.  “Mittens was the only cat who ever liked me before.”  He smiled as he went to the bin in the corner and put the ball of gingery hair into it.  
  
            Hermione laughed.  “Crookshanks isn’t just a normal cat.  We’re pretty sure that he’s half Kneazle.”  
  
            George grabbed a glass of water and sat back down.  “What’s a Kneazle?” he asked.  
  
            While Hermione explained what a Kneazle was, Harry excused himself, rose, and took the manila folder.  He made his way to the second floor study that Arthur had built in what used to be the twins’ room.  He sat in the comfortable chair and put his feet on Arthur’s desk, knocking over a tangled skein of electrical cords and plugs.  
  
            As he flipped through the Hogwarts staff orientation packet, he realised he had read most of it before when he’d filled in for Professor Spenser the first time.  He put the packet down and picked up the envelope.  It was much lighter than it would have been if it were from St. Mungo’s, as it was printed on Muggle paper rather than parchment.  Harry sighed and slit open the envelope causing a photocopied packet to fall out into his hands.  
  
            He skimmed to cause of death first.  It was as he expected: a massive heart attack.  It listed contributing factors of weight, smoking and heavy consumption of alcohol.  He went back to the top of the report and started reading carefully.  Time ticked slowly by as he read a line, and then re-read it.  He squinched his eyes as he tried to make sense of it.  
  
            He rose, went to the door and opened it.  “Hermione, could you come up here, please?” he shouted down the stairs.  
  
            When Hermione arrived a moment later, she closed the study door behind her and sat down across from Harry on an ottoman.  
  
            “You still have your classified security clearance?” he asked her.  
  
            She smiled.  “You know I do.  Why do you ask?”  
  
             Harry handed her the autopsy report.  He pointed at a word halfway down the page.  “Does that word mean what I think it does?”  
  
            Hermione’s smile faltered.  “Nulliparous?”  She met Harry’s eyes.  “It does if you think it means childless.”  Hermione skimmed over the rest of the report.  “This is George’s mother’s autopsy?”  
  
            Harry nodded.  
  
            Hermione handed the report back to him.  “If this is right, then she can’t be George’s mother.”  
  
            Harry sighed.  “What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell anyone else besides Ron.”  His wand tip glowed blue as he pulled it and tested the anti-spying wards.  “We think that someone in the Unspeakables, possibly Ewan Croaker, is spying on George for some reason.”  
  
            Hermione tapped the report with a finger.  “That would explain why Conner put this in my desk, but didn’t tell me about it personally.”  She also pulled her wand out and waved it, causing the tip to glow blue.  “It would also explain your additions to the wards on the Burrow.  Don’t you think that whoever’s spying on George will notice the anti-spying ward?”  
  
             Harry chuckled.  “I’m sure they will, but what are they going to do.  Do you think they’ll politely ask that we take it down?”  He refolded the autopsy report and put it back in its envelope.  “I’ve played this spying and warding game before and the best thing to do is to ward everything.  They’ll know we know they’re watching and it might make them desperate.”  
  
            “What about George?”  Hermione moved to the window and looked out at the front yard where Molly was watering flowers and George was feeding the chickens.  
  
            Harry rose and stuffed the envelope into his back pocket.  “I’m going to tell Molly and Arthur, and leave it up to them whether they tell George now or later.”  
  
            “I’m sure you know how to put up the anti-spying ward that I used?” Harry asked.  George looked up and waved at Hermione.  When Harry moved to the window next to Hermione, George waved at him as well.  Both Harry and Hermione answered with waves, and George went back to feeding the chickens.  
  
            Hermione sat back down.  “Of course I know that ward; I’m the one who helped both you and Ron learn it.”  She smiled.  “It seems such a short time ago that you were in training and Ron was running the shop with George.  I can’t believe that ten years have passed.”  
  
            A small girl’s voice came from the other side of the door.  “Mummy?”  
  
            Hermione rose and moved so the door stood between her and Rose.  She poked her head around the door.  “Yes, Rosie?”  
  
            “I’m hungry, mummy,” Rose said from behind the door.  
  
            “Go down to the kitchen and I’ll be down in a moment to get you a biscuit and some milk.”  
  
            “ ‘k mummy.”  
  
            Hermione stepped back from the door and turned to Harry.  Before Hermione could speak, Rose peeked around the door.  She saw Harry and started to wail.  Her screams echoed through the whole house.  
  
            “Hurt me!  Bad man!”  
  
            Hermione scooped Rose up and took her from the room.  Rose’s shrieks could still be heard, even when Hermione had taken her down to the kitchen.  
  
            Harry put his head on the window and swore under his breath.  He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened.  He watched as Hermione walked out the front of the house and passed near where George and Molly were feeding the chickens.  Hermione talked animatedly with Molly as Rose continued shrieking loudly enough to be heard through the glass.  He pulled back from the window so Rose wouldn’t see him again, and sat down with his face buried in his hands.  
  
            A gentle touch got him to lift his head.  Ginny had come into the room and she knelt in front of him, grasping his hands.  
  
            “Rosie saw you and started screaming again?”  
  
            He nodded.   
  
            “What happened with Rose wasn’t your fault.”  She squeezed his shoulder.  “You know that none of us blame you.  She’ll get over it eventually.”  
  
            Harry’s shoulders hunched.  “If only I’d been a little faster, she wouldn’t have been hurt at all.”  He shrugged her hand off his shoulder.  
  
            She faltered, but let her hand drop.  She watched as Harry’s shoulders shook.  
  
            “She’s getting a little better every day, you know.”  Ginny’s voice grew thick.  “She actually asked about you the other day and didn’t sound scared.”  
  
            “She has reason to be scared of me.”  A tear grew in the corner of his eye and he wiped it away.  “She has reason.”  
  
            Ginny gripped his wrist tightly.  “It was not your fault.”  She enunciated each word clearly.  “That bastard McDaniels is responsible.”  
  
            “I know that, but I still can’t shake it.”  He ran his free hand through his hair tiredly.  “I think Rose falling will haunt me the rest of my life.”  
  
             Ginny sighed.  “Think how much worse it would have been if you’d done nothing.  He would have gotten away again and we probably would never have found Rose.”  She put her hands on either side of his face.  “You know the odds on finding a child alive after the first twenty-four hours.”  
  
             Harry pulled his hands away, leaned forward, and embraced her awkwardly.  She knelt on the floor with her head in his lap and he stroked her hair.  “I know, and I can accept it mentally, but emotionally it’s still hard.  You know I’m working with Pam, from the Auror’s mental health office, on using directed dreaming techniques before sleeping to keep the nightmare away.”  
  
            “It seems to have helped.”  She lifted her head.  “You haven’t woken me up shouting for a couple of weeks.”  
  
             “I—I don’t know.”  He slid out of the chair until they both knelt.  “I’ve been dreaming about Hogwarts instead.”  
  
            She stood and kissed him.  “Surely that’s better than the nightmare of Rosie falling.”  
  
            He pulled back from the kiss.  “Sometime it is; sometimes it’s a dream of playing Quidditch or walking the grounds.  But, sometimes it’s a nightmare, instead.  Someone’s cracked open Professor Dumbledore’s tomb again.  I turn to see who it is, but all I see is a bloody hand reaching for me, then I wake up.”  
  
             She started to reply, but they heard Arthur’s voice from outside.  They rose in time to see him greeting Molly with a hug and kiss as George turned his head away and concentrated on the chickens.  
  
            The window muffled the sound, but they could hear Arthur ask something of George.  George nodded and put the remaining feed in his hands back in the container.  George, Molly and Arthur all came into the house.  
  
            Ginny gripped his hand.  “We’ll talk about this tonight after the children are in bed, okay?”  
  
            Harry nodded.  “I think that’s for the best.”  
  
            Harry waited in the study for Arthur while Ginny went down and helped Molly.  Harry could hear Albus and James shouting as they played some game.  He closed his eyes, but the image of Rose screaming at the sight of his face haunted him.  He opened his eyes again as Arthur entered the study, puffing slightly from the exertion of climbing the stairs.  Harry stood to offer Arthur the desk chair.  Arthur waved him off and sat on the ottoman.  
  
            “I’m getting old, when the stairs wind me like this,” Arthur said.  
  
            “Smoking doesn’t help any, either,” Harry replied.  “You really should give up your pipe.”  
  
            “You really think so?”  Arthur pulled his pipe and a cloth from his pocket.  “I don’t smoke all that much.”  He rubbed the bowl of the pipe with the cloth.  “Just a bowl after dinner.”  
  
            “I can show you Muggle studies about just how bad even occasional smoking is for you,” Harry said.  “They’ve studied it extensively.”  
  
            Arthur put the pipe and cloth back in his pocket.  “Ginny said you wanted to see me.  What’s wrong?”  
  
            Harry took a deep breath before speaking.  “It’s nothing wrong, but it is strange.”  He handed the autopsy report to Arthur, who read it over quickly.  
  
            “What is it that I’m missing?” he asked Harry.  
  
            Harry pointed at the word ‘nulliparous.’  “This word means that she never had any children.”  He met Arthur’s eyes.  “Georgina Krupp could not have been George’s mother.  I thought that you would want to know right away.”  
  
            Arthur re-read the report.  “I—Do you know who the boy’s mother is?”  
  
            Harry shook his head.  “I was going to ask Hermione to look at adoption records for the time around George’s birth, but Rosie saw me and started kicking up a fuss.”  He closed his eyes again.  “She had to take Rosie home.”  
  
            Arthur frowned, his forehead creasing as he thought.  “I’ll want to talk it over with Molly, but I can’t see any reason to tell George right now.”  He folded the report and put it back in the envelope.  “Until we know more, all it would do is upset him, and he’s already fragile.”  
  
             Harry spread his hands.  “It’s entirely your decision, yours and Molly’s; but, I think you’re doing the right thing.”  He pulled his wand and showed Arthur the new anti-spying ward.  “Conner obviously thinks someone else wants to learn this, too.  He sent me a coded message today that said we were being watched.”  He put his wand away and watched as Arthur pulled his wand and tested the ward.  “I see you’re familiar with that ward, as well.”  
  
            “Albus taught it to the Order long ago, but I haven’t had to use it since the war.”  Arthur put his wand away as well.  “If the ward goes down, I’ll know and so will Molly.”  
  
            A loud crash followed by angry shouting from down the stairs got Harry’s attention.  “I better go see what the boys are up to before they destroy the Burrow.”  He rose and left the room.  Arthur stood from the ottoman, stretched his back and looked at the envelope.  He put it back into his pocket.  As he started to leave, he paused, took his pipe from his pocket, and put it on the desk.  Sighing, he went down the stairs.  
  
            Dinner that evening at the Burrow was strained.  Molly could obviously tell that Arthur had something important to tell her, but he couldn’t.  Earlier, Harry had snapped at the boys for breaking a vase and Ginny had snapped back at Harry, telling him to just mend it.  Harry had apologised to James and Albus, but they still had streaks of dried tears from their dad yelling at them.  
  
            Ron’s bulldog Patronus appeared just as they were clearing the table.  “Hermione said she went home early because Rosie was upset, so I’m going straight home today.  Sorry we couldn’t be there for dinner tonight.”  
  
            Harry and Molly finished clearing the table and he helped her with the dishes.  Ginny took the boys into the living room and read them a story from the tales of Beedle the Bard.  Her voice when she read Babbity Rabbity always made Harry smile and the boys laugh.  George had followed Arthur out to the shed to look at Arthur’s latest find: a Muggle electric toothbrush that Arthur was trying to enchant.  
  
            “What’s wrong, Harry?” Molly asked as she scrubbed a plate.  
  
            He finished drying the glass in his hands before answering.  “It’s nothing,”   
  
            Molly sighed.  “I’ve raised seven children; don’t tell me it’s nothing.”  
  
             “It’s…we found something out about George.  Arthur’s going to talk to you later, in private.”  He jerked his head toward the living room where they both could hear squealing laughter from Albus as Ginny imitated Babbity Rabbity.  
  
            “Little pitchers?” Molly asked.  
  
            Harry nodded.  
  
            There was a tense silence as they finished washing the dishes.  Molly had just pulled the plug from the sink and was rinsing the suds away when she spoke again.  “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to Rosie?”  
  
            Harry put the glass he’d been drying back into the drainer and hung up the towel.  “Yes,” he said simply and turned to leave.  As he passed near Molly, she pulled him into a hug.  Harry hugged her stiffly for only a few seconds before heading into the living room.  
  
            Molly hung her head for a moment, but then a movement out the window caught her eye.  She looked up and saw George laughing at something Arthur had said.  She smiled as she stripped off her rubber gloves and left them to dry over the sink. 


	7. Unexpected Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Molly receive unexpected visitors.

Smokey, the smaller of the two kittens, pounced on George’s shoelace as he tied his shoes.  Smokey tugged at the lace playfully and George had to firmly push him away.  A voice from the fireplace made George jump and caused the kitten to go skittering off under a sofa.    
  
            “Excuse me, young man, is Molly home?”  
  
            George turned to see a woman’s face outlined in the fire.  He was glad he’d seen Arthur call Molly like this before, but he still gawped for just a moment before answering politely.  “She’s in the kitchen; may I ask who’s calling, please?”    
  
            He couldn’t make out the colour of her hair in the swirling flames, but she had heavy-lidded eyes and a narrow, regal face.  
  
             The woman smiled at his manners, which made her stern face more welcoming.  George smiled back at her.  “You must be George.  I’m Andromeda Tonks.  Would you be so kind as to fetch Molly, please?”  
  
            George nodded and started to get up to walk off.  Andromeda’s voice stopped him.  
  
            “Young man, you need to tie your shoes before you hurt yourself.”  
  
            George finished tying his shoes and went into the kitchen, where Molly was sitting down with a cookbook and circling recipes.  She looked up as he came into the room.  
  
            “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said.  “There’s a caller in the fireplace.  She’s says her name’s Andromeda Tonks and she’d like to speak with you.”  
  
            Molly rose and put the cookbook down.  “Thank you, George.  Have you cleaned the cat box today?”  
  
            He shook his head.  “I was just getting ready to do that when she called.”  
  
            Molly moved by him into the living room.  “Go ahead and do that while I talk to Mrs. Tonks.”    
  
             After she left, George picked up the cookbook and looked at it.  He sighed as he read the title:   _One hundred and one low calorie recipes for the portly wizard by Gustav Greylag._ He went to the cupboard and grabbed a bag and the scoop to clean his cat box.  He had just climbed to the landing on the first floor when he heard Molly shouting at him up the stairs.  
  
            “George, could you come down here, please?”  
  
            George left the bag and scoop on the landing and went down the stairs into the living room.  Andromeda smiled at him from the fireplace as he sat down next to Molly.  
  
            As Andromeda spoke, the flames in fireplace crackled green.  “Molly tells me that you’re going to start at Hogwarts this year.”  
  
            George nodded.  “Yes, ma’am.”  
  
            “My grandson, Teddy is going to start this year, too.”  Andromeda’s wedding ring gleamed in the firelight when she lifted her hand and brushed back her hair.  “I thought that you might like to go to Diagon Alley with us and get your supplies after you get your letter.”  She leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially.  “I hear from a highly placed source that you’ll get your letter tomorrow.”  She leaned back and put her finger to her lips.  
  
            George looked to Molly and shrugged slightly.  
  
            Molly caught the movement and nodded at him.  “We’d love that.  Shall we meet at the Leaky Cauldron at 11:00 next Thursday?”  
  
            Andromeda looked down at something.  George saw her hand move.  He presumed she was writing a note.  “11:00 next Thursday it is, then.  See you there.”  
  
            “Goodbye, Andromeda.”  
  
            “Goodbye, Molly.”  
  
             Andromeda’s face winked out.    
  
            Molly turned to George and hugged him.  He stiffened for moment before relaxing and hugging her back.  “You’re getting your letter tomorrow.  Isn’t that exciting?”  She pulled back from the hug.  
  
            George hung his head and shrugged.  “I guess.”  
  
            Molly grabbed one of his hands.  “What’s wrong?”  
  
            George lifted his face and looked at her.  “What if the kids there make fun of me, too?”  
  
            Molly sighed.  “Look, George, there’s bad kids and there’s good kids there.  Teddy’s one of the good kids.  Did you know he’s Harry’s godson?”  
  
            George shook his head.    
  
            Molly gripped his hand tightly.  “My point is that I’m sure you’ll make friends at Hogwarts, but if anyone does treat you badly, you can go see Harry.  He’ll be there and he can look after you.”  
  
            “I’m scared,” he said with a small voice.  “What if I’m a rubbish wizard?”  
  
            Molly hugged him again and this time George hugged her back.  She stroked his back as she said, “I’m sure you’ll be a great wizard.”  
  
            The next morning George was awakened by Mittens purring in his ear and bumping him with her head.  When he sat up and blearily wiped his eyes, Mittens dropped Smokey into his lap.  The kitten rubbed on George’s pyjamas and mewed as Mittens cleaned his velvety ears.  They both purred when George petted them.  Ash, the larger, bolder kitten was scratching in the cat box and flinging sand onto the floor.  He dragged a dried piece of poop out of the box and started swatting it around the room.  
  
            After a few minutes Mittens took Smokey from George’s lap and curled up around him.  Ash saw them together and leapt onto the bed to join them.  George looked around for his handkerchief, but couldn’t find it, so he grabbed the dried poop in a pair of dirty underpants and put it in the bin by his dresser.  He dropped the dirty underpants back into his laundry hamper. After giving Mittens and the kittens some more scratching behind their ears, he gathered up his robes, and went to the bathroom.    
  
            As he took off his clothes to bathe, he looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.  He pulled the scale out from under the sink and weighed himself; he had dropped eight pounds since coming to the Burrow, but it didn’t show yet.  His stomach rumbled as he stepped into the tub.  
  
            He bathed quickly and slipped into his robes.  He moved surprisingly lightly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step that he had found always awakened Molly.  He gathered clean bowls of food and water for the cats and went back with them to his room.  When he picked up the dirty bowls and put down the new bowls, the cats immediately leapt off his bed.  The kittens were still slightly too young for the dry kibble, but they tried to imitate their mother who crunched it greedily.  Ash kept pushing Smokey aside, but Smokey kept gamely returning to the bowl.  
  
            George went back down to the kitchen and washed the dirty cat bowls.  When he had finished he dug around in the icebox.  He smiled as he thought how happy Arthur had been when George told him how Muggle fridges had a light that came on when the door was opened.  Arthur had fiddled with the icebox that entire night until the inside lit up when the door was opened.  Unfortunately, all the food in the icebox glowed as well.    
  
            There was some leftover chicken from the previous night’s meal and George dug out a brightly glowing drumstick and started eating it.  Using the drumstick as torch, he went to the front door and retrieved the _Daily Prophet._   He liked to have it ready for Arthur when Arthur came down with Molly for breakfast.  He watched the moving photographs on the front page with interest, and shook his head in amazement.  After he had finished his chicken, he tossed the still-glowing bone into a compost bucket and washed his hands.  
  
            Footsteps from the stairs got his attention and he turned to face them.  
  
            Molly and Arthur came into the kitchen dressed in their night robes.  The pins in Molly’s hair were arranging themselves under direction from her wand.  Arthur went to the cupboard and started preparing tea.  
  
            “Good morning, George,” Arthur said as he put loose tea into a tea ball.  
  
            “Good morning,” George replied.  He turned to Molly.  “I’ve already fed the cats and I’ve bathed and had breakfast.”  
  
            Arthur laughed.  “Eager to get your Hogwarts letter today?”  
  
            George nodded.  “Yes, sir.”  
  
            Arthur looked at George over his glasses.  “I’ve told you; you don’t need to call me sir.  You can call me Arthur.”  
  
             George looked down.  “It just seems wrong to call you Arthur.  I feel I should call you ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Weasley’”  
  
             “If that’s what makes you comfortable, then it’s okay, but ‘sir’ makes me feel so old.”  
  
             Molly kissed Arthur on the cheek.  “That’s because you are old, dear.”  
  
            “That’s not what you said last night,” Arthur whispered back.  
  
            Molly flushed and giggled.  She started moving around the kitchen and preparing breakfast.  
  
            When she opened the icebox, she sighed.  “Can’t you get rid of the glow on the food?”  
  
             Arthur lowered the paper.  “I’ll try again tonight.”  He winked at George, who laughed.  
  
             Molly straightened from the icebox.  “George, what did you have for breakfast?”  
  
             “I had a leg from last night’s chicken,” he answered.  
  
             Molly sighed again.  “I was saving that chicken for lunch today.”   
  
             George hung his head.  “I’m sorry.”  
  
             Molly moved and sat next to George.  “It’s okay, George.”  She lifted his face.  “I’m just trying to get you into more healthy eating habits.  Can we agree to stick to the meal plan?”  She pointed at the parchment taped to the icebox.  
  
             George nodded guiltily.  “Okay.”  
  
             Arthur and Molly finished their breakfast and went upstairs to get out of their nightclothes.  They kissed their good byes, causing George to blush.    
  
            Molly spoke to George as she pulled the pins from her hair.  “I’ll be ready in a few minutes, and we can get a start on the house.”    
  
            Later, when they were cleaning, she came across another dried cat poop that had been fished out by one of the kittens.  With a disgusted noise, she Vanished it.  
  
            “Excuse me, Molly?” George asked.  
  
            Molly smiled.  It was one of the few times he had called her by name.  “Yes, George?”  
  
            “If you can Vanish the poop, then why do you have me clean the cat box by hand?”  
  
            Molly sat down and indicated George should sit next to her.  After he had sat she spoke.  
  
             “It’s all about responsibility.  I want you to take care of Mittens and her kittens because they’re your cats.  If you could Vanish the contents of her litter tray, then I’d let you make the decision whether or not to use magic.”  She put an arm around him.  
  
            He wiggled under her arm.  “How do you decide when to use magic and when not to?”  
  
            Molly lifted her arm and ran her hands through her hair.  “That’s a hard question and best left up to the individual.”  She pursed her lips as she thought.  “I tend to use magic on chores that I don’t like.  I’m sure you’ve seen that I turn the laundry mangle with magic rather than by hand?”  
  
             George nodded.  “But you feed the chickens by hand, even though you could spread the feed more evenly with magic?”  
  
             “Exactly,” she said.  “When I cook, I do the chopping and peeling with magic, usually, but I mix sauces and dishes by hand most of the time.”  
  
             George looked up at her.  “Can you ‘use up’ your magic?”  
  
             Molly could hear the quotes around ‘use up.’  
  
            “No,” she answered.  “But, you can get tired.  It takes a lot of concentration to keep an enchantment going sometimes and sometimes using magic is just as tiring as doing things by hand.”  George started to ask something, but Molly held up her hand.  “But, again, some things are easier with magic.  I could never budge that big rock in the garden by hand, but with magic I could move it around wherever I wanted it.”  
  
             She stood and began dusting the curtains.  “Did that answer your questions?”  
  
            George also stood.  “I’m not sure; I’ll think I’ll just have to learn as I go.”  
  
            They continued cleaning together until a knock at the door interrupted them.  
  
            “Just a moment!” Molly shouted as she placed the dusting cloth she had been using on a table.  George followed her to the door.  When the door opened, Grace Travis-Smythe stood there, nervously tapping her leg with a rolled up piece of parchment.  She jumped when Molly opened the door and almost fell over.  
  
            “Miss Travis-Smythe, do come in.”  Molly ushered her into the living room.  
  
            George noticed that her pock-marked face had broken out again and she shook as she unrolled the parchment and began to speak.  
  
             “I’m sorry to drop in like this, Mrs. Weasley, but we’re required to do welfare checks and you were on the list for today.”  Grace pulled a quill from her pocket and ticked a box on the parchment.  
  
            Molly indicated for Grace to have a seat.  After Grace had sat down, Molly and George sat next to each other on the sofa.  
  
             “Will this take long, Miss Travis-Smythe?”  Molly asked.  “We’re expecting to get George’s Hogwarts letter today.”  
  
             Grace looked around the living room and ticked another box.  “It shouldn’t take more than an hour.  I need to inspect the premises, and then I need to ask George some questions in private.”  Grace stood up.  “If you don’t mind, I’ll start the inspection and get out of your hair.”    
  
            Molly stood as well.  “Do you need me to walk with you?”  
  
            Grace shook her head.  “I know my way around.  Again, I’m terribly sorry to intrude like this.”  Grace moved off to the kitchen with quill and parchment in hand.    
  
            Molly patted George on the knee.  “No sense just sitting here worrying; we might as well finish our cleaning.”  
  
             George nodded and stood.  They both returned to dusting the living room.  Grace passed back through on her way upstairs.  It only took her thirty minutes to inspect the interior of the house before she moved into the garden.  
  
            When Grace returned, George and Molly were cleaning the kitchen.  
  
            “It all looks good, Mrs. Weasley.  My only minor concern is that there seems to be quite an infestation of gnomes in your garden.”    
  
             Molly leaned her mop against a counter.  “Yes, we de-gnome and then they just come right back.”  She brushed a stray hair back into her bun.  “We’ll borrow our daughter-in-law’s cat again to clear it out.”  
  
             Grace smiled and ticked off a box.  “That would be fine.  I need to speak to George now, privately, if you don’t mind?”  
  
             Molly shook her head.  “Not at all.  Would you like some tea before I go?”  
  
             “No, thank you, Mrs. Weasley.”  Grace unrolled the parchment further and sat at the table.  
  
            George reluctantly sat at the table across from Grace, his head hung.    
  
            Grace noticed his reluctance.  “I promise this won’t take long.”  
  
            Molly gave George’s hand a quick squeeze.  “If you need me, I’ll be upstairs in my bedroom.”  
  
            Immediately after Molly’s footsteps receded up the stairs, Grace began asking questions.  
  
            “Do you like living here?”  
  
            George nodded, but kept his head hung.  “Yes.”  
  
            A box got ticked.  “Do they treat you well?”  
  
            “Yes.”  A scratching and another tick.  
  
            The questions all continued in the same vein:  do they mistreat you, do you have chores, do you get regular meals, and on and on.  As Grace continued, George kept slumping further in his chair.  She finally noticed.  
  
            “What’s the matter, George?”  
  
            “Please don’t take me from here.”  He lifted his head and his eyes brimmed with tears.  “I like it here and I feel good here.”  
  
            Grace rolled up the parchment.  “I’m not going to take you from here.  It’s a good home and the Weasleys are good people.”  She moved to stand in front of George.  “I’m required by my job to make sure that foster children are treated well.  I’d only take you from the Weasleys if they were mistreating you in some way, okay?”  
  
            George nodded and wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe.  Grace smiled and handed him a handkerchief from her pocket.  He took it gratefully and wiped his face and nose.  When he tried to give it back, she indicated he should keep it.  
  
            “I’ll see myself out.”  She began heading for the door when there was another knock.  
  
            George went by her to the front door and opened it.  
  
            Harry stood on the porch with a big grin on his face, and an envelope in his hand.  His smile faltered when he saw Grace.  She flushed and held out her shaking hand to Harry.  
  
            Harry shook her hand.  “What brings you here, Grace?”    
  
            Grace flushed even more crimson and mumbled her reply.  “Welfare check, just leaving.”  She squeezed by Harry and left.  
  
            Harry stepped aside and let her pass.  He saw the tear-streaks on George’s face.  “Are you okay, George?”  
  
             George nodded and sat on the sofa.  Harry closed the door and went to sit by him.  
  
            After a few seconds, George looked up.  “I thought she was here to take me back to the Ministry orphanage.”  His shoulders shook.  “I—I can’t go back there.  And the questions she asked…”  
  
            Harry put his arm around George.  “She was just doing her job.  There’s no reason that they should ever take you away from Molly and Arthur.”  
  
            He held out the envelope.  “I’ve got something here to cheer you up.”  
  
            “My Hogwarts letter?” George asked.  
  
            Harry’s eyes narrowed and he looked around at the spotless living room.  “Did someone tell you this was coming today?”  
  
            George nodded guiltily and took the letter.    
  
             Harry laughed.  “Who spoiled my surprise?”  
  
             Molly’s voice answered from the stairs.  “Andromeda told me that his letter would come today and we’re going to go get our supplies next Thursday with her and Teddy.”  
  
             Harry’s smile grew bigger and he turned back to George.  “I think you’ll like Teddy.”  
  
             George had finally managed to open the heavy envelope and was reading his letter.    
  
             He looked up from it and met Harry’s eyes.  “I’m really going to be a wizard?”  
  
             “You already are a wizard, George,” he said.  
  
             George looked back down at the letter.  He turned to Molly.  “It says I can take an owl, a cat, or a toad.  Does that mean that I can take Mittens with me?”  
  
             Molly thought for a moment.  “The kittens should be old enough by then to be on their own, so you could take Mittens if you wanted.”  She grinned.  “I think we’ll keep Smokey.”  She turned to Harry.  “Know anyone that would like a kitten; say a few young boys who keep asking for a pet?”  
  
             Harry pretended to think for a moment.  “I was going to keep the Jarvey,” he said sarcastically.  “But, I think a kitten might be better for the boys.  I’ll have to ask Ginny to be sure, but I think we’ll take Ash.”  
  
             On cue, Mittens came down the stairs, followed by Smokey and Ash.  She went to the door and mewed to be let out.  Ash imitated her and Smokey scratched at the door.    
  
             “I have to get to Hogwarts, we’re preparing for the term.”  Harry stood and went to the door.  “I’ll see you both for dinner on Tuesday.”  
  
             He opened the door and let the cats out, then went out behind them.


	8. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets Teddy Lupin for the first time. The boys get their school supplies in Diagon Alley...and Knockturn Alley.

 George pushed his sausage around his plate and looked around the Leaky Cauldron. The pub reminded him of the Burrow: rundown, but welcoming and warm. The wooden staircase that led upstairs had a steady stream of wizards coming down to check out. One old man with pink and green robes, and a matching fez caught George’s attention and he leaned back to listen.

“Excellent accommodations, Tom.” When the man spoke, he bobbed his head, and fluffy, white hair popped out from under his fez. “Just the thing I needed to recuperate from my Nargle infestation.”  
  
“Now then, Mr Lovegood. Glad you enjoyed your stay,” Tom said. “Are you having tea?”  
  
“No, thank you. I believe I’ll be heading home. My daughter and future son-in-law will be coming tonight.”  
  
George leaned in closer to Molly and whispered to her. “Is the man at the counter Luna’s father?”  
  
Molly turned to look. Xenophilius saw her and waved.  
  
“Yes, that’s Mr. Lovegood.”  
  
Molly indicated for Xenophilius to come over, but he shook his head and pointed at the large, sundial-shaped watch on his wrist. “Sorry, Molly, got to run, but I look forward to seeing you soon.” He turned to George. “And you too, young man. Don’t let your head get full of Nargles.” He rushed out the door into the courtyard.  
  
“He’s pretty much what I expected from Luna’s descriptions,” George said. Molly grinned and tried to stifle a laugh.  
  
George turned his attention back to his lunch. He ate the sausage with gusto, but looked suspiciously at the gravy on the mash. After peeling the congealed skin off the gravy, he decided not to eat it.  
  
Molly sat up, dabbed her mouth with a napkin and rose. George stood with her. Andromeda came up and gave Molly a hug. In person, she looked less haughty and much friendlier, partly due to the bright yellow floral print of her dress. George studied her regal face as she greeted Molly.  
  
“You look good, Molly,” she said. “Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I saw you last.”  
  
“It’s been entirely too long, Andromeda.” Molly looked behind Andromeda. “Come on, Teddy, greet your Aunt Molly.”  
  
Andromeda stepped aside, and George saw Teddy Lupin for the first time. The short, skinny boy looked to be eight or nine, not the eleven that George knew he must be. Teddy’s sun-bleached brown hair and his delicate, heart-shaped face made him look even younger. Teddy stuck out his hand to Molly, but she ignored it and swept him into a hug. He blushed as he saw George looking at him curiously.  
  
Molly released Teddy from the hug and pushed him gently toward George.  
  
“George, this is Teddy Lupin; he’s Harry’s godson.” George stuck out his hand and shook the other boy’s hand.  
  
“Teddy, this is George Krupp; he’s staying with us.” The boys eyed each other nervously.  
  
Molly sat down next to George, and Andromeda and Teddy sat across from them. Tom came over and took their order. Molly sipped her coffee and chatted with Andromeda about doings in the wizard world while George kept his eyes cast down on his plate.  
  
Teddy broke the silence first. “Harry tells me that you’re Muggle-born,” he told George.  
  
George nodded without looking up.  
  
Teddy grinned. “Did you have a television? I love telly. I like to watch the Muggle shows when I’m at Harry’s and Ginny lets me; she doesn’t want their kids to grow up just sitting around watching telly all day, like Muggles.” He spoke quickly, his words tumbling one after the other with hardly a pause.  
  
George looked up and pushed his fringe back from his forehead. “We had a telly, but it usually didn’t work. Plus, sometimes my mum forgot to pay the licence.”  
  
“I heard your mum passed away; I’m sorry.” Teddy’s plate of toad-in-the-hole arrived and he started to cut a sausage out of it.  
  
“It’s okay. I’m glad I live with the Weasleys now.” George hung his head again, but watched Teddy eat from under his fringe. Teddy ate quickly, barely seeming to chew; he reminded George of Ron. George looked at his half-eaten plate and pushed it to Teddy. “I’m done with mine. Did you want my mash?”  
  
Teddy looked at the gravy on the mash and shook his head. “I don’t like the looks of that gravy.”  
  
George laughed. “Neither did I.”  
  
Teddy smiled, which made him look even younger. “How’d you find out you were a wizard?”  
  
George lowered his head again and a thick silence fell between the boys.  
  
Teddy reached across the table and touched George’s arm. George jerked away, causing both ladies to stop their conversation and look at the boys.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Teddy said, pulling his hand back. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”  
  
George kept his head down and shook it. “It doesn’t upset me anymore,” he said in a shaky voice. “It’s…I just worry what others will think.” He lifted his head again and met Teddy’s eyes. “I found out I was a wizard when I raised my sister from her grave.”  
  
Teddy put down his fork. Andromeda stared at George and Molly put her arm around his shoulders. He squirmed under her grip.  
  
“That’s...” Teddy struggled for the words. “That’s so cool!” he exclaimed. His hair suddenly shifted from light brown to bright red. He noticed George looking at his hair and concentrated on changing it back to brown.  
  
Molly released him, squeezed his shoulder and went back to talking to Andromeda.  
  
“How’d you do that?” George asked, looking closely at Teddy’s hair.  
  
“I’m a metamorphmagus, just like my mum was,” Teddy answered. He shifted his eye colour to green and his hair to a messy pile of black. George had seen pictures of Harry when he was younger and laughed at Teddy’s imitation. “I can change how I look.”  
  
George looked more closely at Teddy, and his pupils dilated. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For your mum and dad.” George’s pupils returned to normal. “I’m sorry they died. I didn’t feel it on you until you changed to look like Harry, but then it came to me all at once.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Teddy took a bite of George’s mash, carefully avoiding the gravy. “I never really knew them.” He pushed the potatoes around with his fork. “I wish sometimes that I could remember them, but what’s done is done.”  
  
George closed his eyes. When he opened them, he seemed to be staring off into space.  
  
“She has something to say to you,” George said, his voice seeming to come from a hole.  
  
Teddy looked at George in alarm. “Who does?”  
  
“Your mother.” George’s head lolled. Both Molly and Andromeda turned to him. Molly had just grabbed George when his head snapped back upright.  
  
“I—I love you, Teddy.” The voice that came from George’s mouth was decidedly feminine. Andromeda stared at him in horror. She recognised the voice of her daughter, dead for nearly eleven years. Molly held George closely to prevent his suddenly slack body from falling.  
  
Tonks’s voice continued speaking. “I’m sorry that I had to leave you. I had to go to Remus...I had to.”  
  
George turned blank eyes to Andromeda. “Dad says that he loves you and that he wishes he could still be there for you.” George started shaking and blood began to drip from his nose. “I don’t think the boy can keep this up for long,” Tonks’s voice said from George’s body.  
  
George’s head lolled to the side. “I love you, mum.” George slid slowly over on the bench until he was resting with his head in Molly’s lap. She staunched his nose with her handkerchief and shook him gently to try to wake him.  
  
Tears flowed down Andromeda’s cheeks and she turned to embrace Teddy. “I don’t know how, but that was Nymphadora’s voice.” She pulled Teddy closer. “That was your mum.”  
  
“That was really Mum?” Teddy asked, tears beginning to well in the corner of his eyes.  
  
Molly nodded. “I knew Tonks, and it was definitely her voice.” She started to say more, but George blinked and tried to raise his head.  
  
“George, are you okay?” Molly pushed his head down gently back onto her lap.  
  
“I’ve got a headache.” He grabbed the handkerchief under his nose and wiped away another small trickle of blood. “I think I can sit up now.” He sat up slowly with Molly’s help.  
  
His eyes focused on Teddy, who sat staring at him. “I’m sorry, Teddy. I didn’t mean to…”  
  
The tears that had been resting on the corner of his eyes began to flow. “No, don’t apologise. I should thank you; I’ve never heard my mum’s voice before.”  
  
Molly leaned her head in close to George’s ear and whispered. “You remember what happened this time?”  
  
George nodded. “We were talking about his mum and he’d just changed to look like Harry when I could feel her watching.”  
  
“You mean Tonks?” Molly asked.  
  
George nodded again. “I could feel her watching and I knew she wanted to say something to Mrs Tonks and to Teddy. I just sort of opened my mind and I knew what she wanted to say.” He put the bloody handkerchief in his pocket. “I…she just wanted to say that she loved you and that she was sorry.”  
  
Molly squeezed his arm. “Have you ever had this happen before?”  
  
George shook his head. “No, I’d never felt anyone like that before. I’d felt ghosts before, but never felt like someone wanted to really talk to me before, or use me to talk to someone else, or whatever it was.”  
  
Molly stood. “I think we should take George to St. Mungo’s.” She dug in her pocket and pulled out some coins to pay for their meal.  
  
Andromeda and Teddy stood as well. “I understand,” Andromeda said. “We can pick up their school supplies some other day.”  
  
George lifted his head to Molly. “Please, I feel fine now.”  
  
He gripped her just above the elbow and stood without shaking or falling over. “Please, I think it’s important that we do the shopping today.”  
  
Molly stared at him for a moment. “Can you tell me why it’s important?”  
  
George shook his head. “No,” he almost whispered. “All I have is a feeling; sort of like how I felt before I saw the picture of Percy.”  
  
“All right, George. We’ll go shopping.” Molly dropped the coins she had been holding on the table. Tom came to pick them up and a younger wizard began to bus the table.  
  
Molly put her arm around George. “But, if you start to feel sick or strange, you tell me right away and we’ll go to St. Mungo’s.”  
  
George stepped away from the bench. “Okay, Molly.”  
  
They left the pub, entered the courtyard, and tapped the brick wall to enter Diagon Alley.  
  
   
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
George pretended not to notice that Molly was keeping a close eye on him. It had been a long, tiring afternoon of shopping. They’d gone to Gringott’s first and the ride on the cart to the Weasleys’ vault had been exhilarating at first, but soon became nauseating as the goblin driving the cart took the turns faster and faster. George would have been tossed out of the cart on one particularly long corner, but the goblin reached out with an iron grip and yanked him back in. George had flinched back at the strength in the small goblin’s hand.  
  
His head spun from all the places they’d visited. He only vaguely remembered buying his books or his parchments and quills at the stationery shop.  
  
Teddy kept pointing out more and more wonders to George, keeping up a steady commentary the whole time. “Look at the ice cream shop, they’ve got every flavour you can imagine and some you can’t. Oh, and the menagerie has animals of all sorts, and you won’t believe the new brooms they’ve got at Quality Quidditch Supplies.”  
  
George smiled as he thought about how extra-excited Teddy had been at the Owl Emporium.  
  
“Remember, Teddy,” Andromeda had told him. “You have to take care of this owl, and you have to write to me. Promise?”  
  
Teddy just nodded and wrapped both hands around the cage, quiet for once. The small, brown owl inside hooted softly at him and rubbed his hand with its beak.  
  
“Not buying the boy an owl, Molly?” Andromeda asked.  
  
“No. George has decided to take Mittens instead.” Molly stroked a snowy owl through the bars of its cage, but then looked away.  
  
“Mittens is my cat,” George said. “Besides, the owls don’t like me.” He reached out to a cage and the barn owl inside it eyed him nervously, and then pecked at him. George had been expecting this and yanked his hand back from the cage.  
  
They’d gone next to get potion supplies. George stayed well back from the glass phials and alembics. He didn’t want to break anything, especially as loaded down with parcels and bags as he was. He watched as Molly approached the witch behind the counter and Andromeda and Teddy shopped in the back of the store.  
  
“How can I help you?” she asked.  
  
“We have two boys here who will be starting at Hogwarts soon and we need to pick up their Potions supplies.” Molly slid the list across to her.  
  
“Not a problem. We have First Year kits all ready. We can even have them shipped directly to Hogwarts now for a small charge.” The witch slid a small pad across to her. “All you have to do is sign here. You look like you’re loaded down already.”  
  
“How much is the charge?” Molly asked.  
  
The witch consulted a price sheet. “Just two Galleons to send a First Year package, complete with all ingredients and a pewter cauldron.”  
  
Molly shook her head and started, but Andromeda pushed past her and pushed coins at the witch behind the counter. “We’ll take the delivery package, please.”  
  
“You don’t have to…” Molly started.  
  
“Look at the boys,” Andromeda said. “I don’t think they can carry much more, do you?”  
  
Molly looked back at George. George strained under the weight of the parcels and almost dropped one. Molly sighed and turned to the witch. “All right, we’ll take the delivery package.” When Molly turned back, Andromeda winked at George, who winked back.  
  
“At least let me pay for George’s,” Molly said to Andromeda.  
  
Andromeda laughed. “You pay for George’s supplies and I’ll pay for delivery for both of them, deal?”  
  
Molly flushed a bit. “All right, Andromeda, if you insist.” George knew she was proud, and didn’t like people thinking they were poor.  
  
After they left the apothecary, Andromeda turned to the boys. “Just one stop left.”  
  
Teddy bounced up and down. “We’re going to get our wands?”  
  
“Right in one, Teddy,” Andromeda answered. “Just Ollivander’s left.”  
  
They walked the length of Diagon Alley, passing by the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Teddy leaned over and whispered to George. “That’s Knockturn Alley; it’s full of all sorts of stores that sell stuff for the Dark Arts.” George thought he felt something pulling him into the narrow, dirty opening, but didn’t say anything.  
  
When they arrived at Ollivander’s a small, ginger-haired girl and her mother were just exiting. She had a wand box in her hand. “Please, mum, can’t I just hold it?”  
  
The mother laughed. “You can hold it when we get home.” She smiled at Molly and Andromeda. “They’re always so excited to get their wand.”  
  
Molly smiled back. “Yes, this is my eighth to get his wand.”  
  
As the mother turned to talk, the girl opened the package and took out her wand.  
  
“Your eighth, my goodness,” the woman said. “I don’t know how you manage; I have my hands full with three, and two of them nearly grown.”  
  
The girl swung her arm and red sparks flew from her wand tip, just missing her mother’s nose. The woman turned quickly and snatched the wand away from the girl. “Mary, I told you not to take the wand out, didn’t I?”  
  
The girl lowered her head. “Yes, mother. Sorry, mother.” The woman grabbed the girl by the wrist and started leading her off. The girl looked back and waved at Teddy and George, and then rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her mother’s back.  
  
George and Teddy were still laughing as they entered Ollivander’s but stopped immediately on seeing all the boxes lining the walls.  
  
An old wizard dressed in a rather plain black robe sat in an armchair in the middle of the store, in front of the small counter. A younger wizard was putting away boxes on the wall, levitating them back into slots with his wand.  
  
“Forgive me for not rising, Molly, Andromeda.” The man spoke with a wheezing, reedy voice. “It’s getting harder to stand for long periods now.”  
  
“Quite all right,” Andromeda replied, moving to shake his hand.  
  
After Andromeda had finished shaking his hand, he turned to Molly. “Ah, Molly, ten inches, quite flexible, made of birch with a core of occamy feather, right?”  
  
Molly laughed. “You’re right, like always.”  
  
Mr Ollivander looked at the boys. He spoke to Teddy. “You must be Teddy Lupin; you have your mother’s face.”  
  
He turned his head to look at George. He stared at him for a few seconds that seemed like eternity to George. He looked back up at Molly. “Is this one of your grandchildren? Have I really lost track of that much time?” His face grew taut.  
  
Molly knelt before Mr Ollivander. “No, he’s a foster son. He’s Muggle-born, which is why you don’t recognize him and he’s getting ready to go to Hogwarts this fall along with Teddy.”  
  
Mr Ollivander looked back at George from Molly. “Come closer, boy.”  
  
George stepped closer and Mr Ollivander reached out a shaking hand and gripped his wrist. It reminded George unpleasantly of the goblin at Gringott’s who had yanked him back into the cart. Mr Ollivander’s eyes widened and he released his grip on George.  
  
“So soon?” he whispered.  
  
George nodded and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Molly and Andromeda shared a side-long look, but didn’t say anything.  
  
Mr Ollivander snapped his attention back to Teddy. “Right-o, Mr Lupin, we’re going to try ash first, with a core of unicorn hair.” His assistant had already started laying out boxes and was ready for Teddy to start trying them out. The assistant was a wizard in his mid-twenties, with a tanned face and dark brown hair that was almost black.  
  
“Ah, good, James,” Mr Ollivander said to the man. “I see you already anticipated what I was going to say.”  
  
James bowed slightly to the older man. “Yes, uncle,” he said with an American accent.  
  
Mr Ollivander smiled. “My nephew from the colonies. He’ll be taking over when I’ve gone, which will apparently be sooner than I thought.”  
  
“Don’t talk like that,” James said. “You’re a tough old man, and you’ve got lots of years left.”  
  
Mr Ollivander gripped the arm of his nephew and rose with effort. He started working through the wands and it was only minutes until he finally settled on a poplar wand, mostly rigid, eleven inches with a core of demiguise hair. Teddy was thrilled at his wand and wanted to have it out, but Andromeda put it away in her bag.  
  
“You can practise when we get home,” she said firmly.  
  
“Now it’s your turn, boy,” Mr Ollivander told George.  
  
James had already picked out a few wands and had put them on a table near his uncle.  
  
“Let’s try rowan, ten inches, flexible, with a core of narwhal tusk first.” He took the wand out of its box and held it for George to take. George reached his hand out slowly and took the wand. It had no more touched his hand than it was ripped away again by Mr Ollivander. Green smoke had just barely started to pour from its tip and Mr Ollivander dismissed it with a wave of the wand.  
  
“Hmm, that was closer than I thought it would be on the first try.” He tried other wands in quick succession, each causing some sort of spark or smoke to shoot from them before he yanked them away from George. The piles of opened boxes grew faster than James could put them away.  
  
“There’s only one left to try.” Mr Ollivander pulled his own wand and tapped it in an intricate pattern on the counter. A small, hidden drawer opened on the back of it. He sat wearily in the armchair again.  
  
“The wand, please, James.”  
  
“Are you sure, uncle?” James asked.  
  
Mr Ollivander nodded. “I have to be sure.” He turned back to George. “We’re going to try a special wand that I created about ten years ago, but I hoped to never see go to its owner.”  
  
James presented a dusty box to his uncle, who opened it.  
  
Andromeda gasped when she saw what the box contained. Molly peered around Andromeda and also drew a sharp breath.  
  
Mr Ollivander took a small black wand from the case. “Black elder, solid, no core, nine inches, extremely rigid.” He started to hold out the wand to George, but Molly stepped in between them.  
  
“An elder wand, what were you thinking?” She pushed Mr Ollivander’s hand away from George.  
  
Mr Ollivander looked up at Molly. “I carve what the material wants from me. This wand wanted to be carved, needed to be carved.” He shook his head. “You can’t understand unless you’ve made wands yourself how each material has its own personality and that it wants to be made into a tool.”  
  
George touched Molly’s arm. “It’s okay, Molly, I don’t think this is my wand, but I have to be sure.”  
  
Molly looked at George’s earnest face and stepped back. He reached out and took the wand from Mr Ollivander. It was warm to his touch and almost felt right, but when he flicked his wrist it twisted and shot from his grasp back into its case.  
  
“I’m especially glad that’s not meant to be your wand.” Mr Ollivander closed the case without touching the wand. “Put it away, please, James.” James put the case back in the drawer and tapped his wand on the counter until the drawer closed and locked with a loud click.  
  
“That’s it; that’s all the wands I have that would be suitable.” Mr Ollivander sighed.  
  
Molly put her hand on George’s shoulder. “I’ve never known you not to have the right wand before.”  
  
Mr Ollivander smiled. “It’s not happened often, but I’ve always had the right recommendation for where to go when I haven’t had the right wand.” He coughed, and then laughed. “I know exactly where the boy’s wand is, I saw it not two days ago, when the current owner brought it here for an appraisal.”  
  
“Where is it?” Molly asked.  
  
“Knockturn Alley, somewhere, right?” George asked Mr Ollivander.  
  
“Felt it there when you walked by, did you?” he asked George, who nodded.  
  
“James, fetch me my cane and cloak, we’re going to Caraveggio’s Curiosities.”  
  
“Yes, uncle.” James went into the back.  
  
Mr Ollivander rose with Molly’s help. “You’ll want to bring your oldest boy, I forget his name. Oak, twelve inches, with a core of wolfsbane.”  
  
“Bill?” Molly asked. “Why Bill?”  
  
“We’ll need him,” Mr Ollivander said cryptically. “Besides, I don’t like to go into Knockturn Alley unless I have a good escort.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I’m not taking Teddy into Knockturn Alley.” Teddy started to protest, but Andromeda shushed him. “It has too many bad memories from my childhood.”  
  
“You’ll have to tell me all about it,” Teddy whispered to George. “I’m going to be staying at Harry’s in two weeks, see if you can stay with me.” George nodded.  
  
“I understand, Andromeda.” Molly sighed. “I don’t really want to go to Knockturn Alley either, but if that’s where George’s wand is, then that’s where we’ll go.”  
  
Molly and Andromeda embraced and then Andromeda took Teddy by the shoulders and half-pushed him out the door. Teddy waved goodbye to George as the door closed and didn’t see George wave back.  
  
Molly summoned her pelican Patronus and sent it off with a message to Bill. “He shouldn’t be too long; he’s at work at Gringott’s just down the street.”  
  
George had only met Bill in person a couple of times before and always tried to stay out of his way. There was something about Bill’s scars that scared him, even though Bill and his wife, Fleur had never been anything kind to him. Looking at Fleur made him feel strange, too, and he tried to avoid being in a room with her. Victoire and Dominique were always off in their own little-girl world and didn’t seem to welcome George into it. When he tried to talk them, they usually spoke briefly in French before making some excuse to go elsewhere.  
  
Mr Ollivander had only just managed to get his cloak on and James was handing him his cane when Bill ripped the door open and came into the shop. His hair was dishevelled and he had his wand out.  
  
“Mum, what’s going on?” He lowered his wand when he didn’t see any threat.  
  
“We need to go to Knockturn Alley and Mr Ollivander requested that you come with us.” She put her arm around George’s shoulders, which caused him to squirm. “Both George and Mr Ollivander think that George’s wand is there in a store called Caraveggio’s Curiosities.”  
  
Mr Ollivander cleared his throat and everyone turned to him. “I think we’ll need your expertise, but I don’t want to say more until we get there,” he said to Bill.  
  
“All right.” Bill moved closer to his mother and pretended not to notice when George pulled back slightly.  
  
“If we’re all ready to go?” Mr Ollivander asked. He stepped out the door with Molly, George, Bill and James following behind. They paused while James locked up the shop and hung a sign on the door.  
  
Mr Ollivander led the way, stumping along slowly with his cane.  
  
“All that time in the basement at Malfoy Manor didn’t do him any good,” Bill whispered to Molly.  
  
“He doesn’t look good at all,” she whispered back.  
  
Bill went to help James steady Mr Ollivander. “Are you sure you’re up to this, Mr Ollivander?” Bill asked.  
  
Mr Ollivander glanced back at Molly and George. “Quite sure, Mr Weasley. It’s my duty to match wand with wielder.” He coughed and James stopped him from falling. “Besides, I don’t have much time left and this needs to be done before I go.”  
  
“I told you earlier not to talk like that,” James said.  
  
Mr Ollivander smiled and leaned more heavily on James and Bill. They walked along in silence until the opening to Knockturn Alley came up. George again felt the strange tugging pulling him.  
  
Mr Ollivander turned into the alley without hesitating, but Molly paused a pace with George before following. Bill’s eyes were up and alert and George noticed that while he held Mr Ollivander with his left hand, his right hand gripped his wand, hidden mostly by his pocket.  
  
Caraveggio’s Curiosities was only a short way and they soon arrived outside the door.  
  
The pulling that George felt grew stronger and he peered into the window. A gnarled, mummified hand with a candle resting on the back of it beckoned with a crooked finger when George looked at it.  
  
“Are you sure this is the place?” Molly asked.  
  
Mr Ollivander and George both nodded. George reached around James, Bill and Mr Ollivander and opened the door. The shop inside was well-lit and covered in fantastic devices. Besides the hand, George’s attention was drawn to a stuffed creature with the head of an eagle and the body of a lynx. He felt the tugging pulling him to his right and he saw his wand for the first time.  
  
A glass case on a plinth with a faerie light floating above it was in the place of honour in the centre of the room. The wand was inside the case, levitating and spinning to show it off. It was brilliant polished white ivory and about fourteen inches long. Egyptian hieroglyphs covered the surface from the highly-polished gold sun ornament on the tip to the linen-wrapped handle that ended with a knob. George leaned closer and realised that the knob wasn’t just a knob, but a joint. The wand was made from bone.  
  
“Ah, Luigi,” Mr Ollivander’s voice broke George out of his reverie. “I believe that I’ve found the owner of this wand.”  
  
Luigi walked up and shook Mr Ollivander’s hand. He was short, barely taller than George, and very dark. His droopy black moustache bobbed when he talked.  
  
“This boy, here?” Luigi asked, indicating George. “He’s the one the sceptre is meant to go to?” His voice was soft, and had a slight Mediterranean accent.  
  
“I believe so,” Mr Ollivander said. “Could we possible see it?”  
  
“Just a moment.” Luigi took a step closer to George. “What do you feel, boy?”  
  
George answered without thinking. “I can feel it pulling me, like it’s trying to tell me something.”  
  
Luigi nodded approvingly and dug in his pocket, coming out with a large, cast-iron key ring. He flipped through the keys until he found an old-fashioned skeleton key and stuck it in a hole that George hadn’t noticed. The lock clicked and the glass disappeared with a whoosh of displaced air.  
  
George started to reach for the wand, but Bill stopped him. “I want to take a look at those hieroglyphs first.” He knelt down and studied the wand as it levitated. His mouth moved as he read.  
  
After about ten minutes, he turned to Luigi. “Is this real?”  
  
Both Luigi and Mr Ollivander nodded.  
  
Luigi reached in and lifted out the wand. “It’s early twelfth dynasty, probably from the reign of Amenemhet. It’s likely to be the ceremonial sceptre of a priest of Anubis. These hieroglyphs here show that it was used in the rite of mummification, presumably to tie the spirit to the mummy and ensure that the ka stayed near the body and its belongings in the afterlife.”  
  
Bill shook his head. He spun the wand around in Luigi’s hand and pointed at a set of hieroglyphs. “I agree this was used in mummification, but look at this set of hieroglyphs here. It’s clearly indicating that it was used to protect the body of the mummy and to guide the spirit to its place in the afterlife.”  
  
He pointed at another set of hieroglyphs. “And this is from the Book of the Dead. I agree this probably belonged to a priest of Anubis, but it’s meant to protect the dead, not tie them to their body or their belongings in the earthly realm. It’s more meant to make sure that nothing interferes with their progress to the afterlife.”  
  
The two men argued back and forth as Mr Ollivander watched them indulgently.  
  
Finally, Molly cleared her throat. “It’s all quite interesting, but, is it meant to be George’s wand?”  
  
Bill and Luigi looked at George who stared at the wand, seeming entranced by it. George held his hand out to Luigi, and the small man put the wand into George’s hand.  
  
Immediately, the hieroglyphs shifted and moved, the writing flowed and twisted. The bright colours melted into Cyrillic letters and Norse runes. It passed into Ogham, Old English, Latin, and Middle French before transforming back into hieroglyphs.  
  
Everyone took a step back from George as the wand emitted golden sparks from under the golden sun ornament on its tip. The ornament fell off into Mr Ollivander’s waiting hand.  
  
“I told you that tip was a Victorian addition.”  
  
Luigi laughed and nodded as Mr Ollivander handed the ornament to him. “Still it’s a valuable piece in its own right.”  
  
The linen wrapping under George’s hand rewrapped itself and shrank to cover less of the wand, revealing a cartouche. George held it up so Bill could read it.  
  
Bill looked closely at the wand. “It’s your name in the cartouche, George.”  
  
“What does that mean?” Molly asked as George lowered his hand to look at the hieroglyphs.  
  
“It usually indicates a royal person’s proper name,” Luigi said, just as Bill was about to speak. He realised that he’d interrupted Bill and held out his hand to show that Bill should go ahead.  
  
“What Mr. Caraveggio said...”  
  
“Please, call me Luigi.” He smiled at Bill.  
  
“What Luigi said is true, but sometimes the priests would be honoured by having their names put in cartouches as well, and sometimes they were given honorary royal titles.”  
  
“Is the wand dangerous?” Molly asked Mr Ollivander.  
  
“No more dangerous than any other wand.” He leaned heavily on James. “It’s not the wand that’s dangerous, but the wielder. Remember that Harry and Voldemort had basically the same wand.”  
  
Molly sighed and nodded. “It seems it’s meant to be his wand. What’s the price?”  
  
Luigi turned to Mr Ollivander. “What was it you valued it at?” He pretended to be lost in thought. “Ah, yes, it was 1,200 Galleons.”  
  
Molly’s face paled. “1,200 Galleons?” she whispered.  
  
Mr Ollivander cleared his throat. “That was with the ridiculous Victorian golden sun medallion.” He thought for a moment. “As it is now, I would value it at 650 Galleons as an historical wand.”  
  
Luigi flipped the sun medallion around in his hand. “Fair enough, I think I can get 500 Galleons or more from this.” He turned an unctuous smile to Molly. “For you, pretty woman, 600 Galleons.”  
  
Molly looked down at George. “I can’t...we don’t...”  
  
Bill pulled his mother aside and whispered in her ear about lines of credit at Gringott’s. George looked raptly at the wand, not noticing as the mummified hand holding the candle slid off its pedestal and began crawling toward him. As it touched his leg, the candle sprang to light and everyone turned to stare.  
  
“I think we can work out a trade, Mr Caraveggio,” George said, picking up the mummified hand. When he raised it to waist level, it guttered and sparked briefly, but steadied and burned with a golden flame.  
  
“And what’s that, young man?” Luigi asked George.  
  
“I can tell you who this hand belonged to.”  
  
“I already know that. It was a wizard hanged in the Dark Ages for using magic in front of a Muggle.”  
  
George shook his head. “It’s much older than that, although not as old as the wand. I think you’ll find what I tell you to be worth the wand.”  
  
“Okay, boy, tell me who this hand belonged to.” Luigi stroked his moustache.  
  
“This is the hand of a hanged man, but he wasn’t hanged by someone else, he hanged himself. He couldn’t live with himself after what happened.” He held the hand up higher, causing the flame to leap even higher.  
  
“This is the hand of Judas.” The candle’s flame jumped even higher, flashing blue and green.  
  
Everyone gasped. Luigi regained his composure first.  
  
“Even if it is, how could I prove it?”  
  
“I know a reliable psychometrist,” Mr Ollivander said. “She should be able to confirm the boy’s story.”  
  
Luigi exhaled slowly. “All right, if this proves to be the hand of Judas, like the boy claims, the wand will be his.” He held his hand out for Molly to shake.  
  
Molly took his hand hesitantly and shook it.  
  
“I’ll send a message to her now,” Mr Ollivander said. He pulled out a small sheet of parchment and a quill. He wrote briefly before using a Banishing to send the letter to the psychometrist.  
  
George handed the hand back to Luigi, who replaced it on its pedestal. The flame continued to burn a bright golden colour.  
  
“Please, shall we have tea while we wait for a reply?” Luigi offered. He led them all to a small sitting room in the back of the shop.  
  
He pulled a plate of biscuits from a cabinet and began making tea in an antique Russian samovar.  
  
They all munched on the dry biscuits and drank the strong, black tea. It was less than half an hour before a letter appeared in Mr Ollivander’s hand.  
  
He slit it open and read. “She says that she’s already foreseen our question and the answer is ‘yes.’ It has a little bit more, but I think you should read it yourself, Luigi.”  
  
He handed the letter to Luigi, who read it quickly. He smiled when he finished.  
  
“You know the person I used, I trust?” Mr Ollivander asked. “I don’t like to say her name.”  
  
Luigi nodded. “I understand; sometimes I think she sees too much.”  
  
He stood. “Very well.” He held his hand out to help Molly rise. George and Bill both stood as well.  
  
Luigi bowed to George. “The sceptre is yours, young man. Use it in the spirit that it’s meant to be used.”  
  
The wand glowed greenly under George’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some readers are probably wondering why I chose a pelican as Molly’s Patronus. In medieval lore, a pelican was believed to be the ideal mother, often piercing her own breast and feeding her babies with her own blood. The comparison is to God—I suggest looking for the song >.
> 
> Also, a Hand of Glory, such as the one Draco had in the canonical books is usually made from the mummified hand of a hanged man. 
> 
> Thank you to all my patient readers for waiting. I realise it’s been forever since I updated this story. It was a struggle this time to get the words down. I think I'm also going to give up indenting, as my word processor program is having trouble with the advanced editor and it's a real pain to insert them all by hand.


	9. Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George receives a letter from Teddy Lupin. An alarming voice tries to speak through George.

  
Harry kicked Neville under the table as he tried to nod off. Neville’s head jerked back up and he looked around at the other professors.  
  
“No one else noticed,” Harry whispered.  
  
“Thanks,” Neville whispered back. They both turned their attention to Headmaster Diggory who was going over the expectations for the next year at Hogwarts. Harry had already read it all in the staff orientation packet and he let his mind wander. As always, lately when he relaxed, he saw McDaniels dangling Rose off the edge of the walkway. He shook his head and turned his attention back to the Headmaster.  
  
“For our last item of business, let’s go over the list of students with unusual powers.” Headmaster Diggory sat and Professor Flitwick stood on his chair.  
  
“We only have two returning students to watch. Anthony Fellwar, a seventh year Ravenclaw prefect, is of age and is a licensed Animagus who can transform into an eagle, and Torval Torvalsson, a fifth-year Gryffindor is a berserker.”  
  
He cleared his throat and continued. “Mr Torvalsson has had only one flare in the last two years so it seems the Occlumency lessons are helping immensely. I believe Harry has some information on some new students.”  
  
Harry stood as Professor Flitwick sat. “Thank you, Filius. We have two first-year students who have unusual powers. My godson Teddy Lupin is a Metamorphmagus, like his mother Nymphadora Tonks was.”  
  
He paused and thought carefully before continuing. “We also have a boy named George Krupp starting this year, and he is a necromancer.”  
  
A startled murmur passed amongst the professors for a moment.  
  
“I first met George Krupp three years ago, when he accidently raised his sister; a Muggle; and Fred Weasley as Animortes, and again recently when his mother died. He has been fostered out to Arthur and Molly Weasley. His sister attended Hogwarts before passing away at the age of seventeen from leukaemia.”  
  
“Leukaemia, that’s unusual for a witch,” Neville interrupted. “They couldn’t cure her at St. Mungo’s?”  
  
“I remember her, Wilhelmina Krupp,” Professor Sinistra said. “They took her to St. Mungo’s, but the cancer was too advanced already.”  
  
The Headmaster spoke. “Do you believe the boy presents a danger, Harry?”  
  
Harry shook his head. “No, Amos, I think he’s no more dangerous than any other Weasley.” he said, quoting what Arthur had said.  
  
The professors laughed and Harry sat back down.  
  
The rest of the meeting passed quickly. Harry met Neville in the hallway outside the staff room.  
  
“Lunch, Harry? We grow our own vegetables and Hannah makes a mean salad Niçoise.”  
  
“Sure, sounds good. Ginny’s not expecting me home until this evening.” Harry and Neville walked out the main entrance and down to Hogsmeade. Neville looked at Harry out of the corners of his eyes as they walked in companionable silence. Harry noticed Neville fidgeting with something in his pocket.  
  
"What have you got there?" Harry asked.  
  
Neville jumped slightly. "What do you mean?"  
  
"In your pocket. What are you playing with?"  
  
Neville sighed. "It's the letter from Headmaster Diggory that said he was naming me Head of Gryffindor."  
  
Harry slapped Neville on the back. "Well deserved, too."  
  
Neville stopped. "I thought you might like that honour, Harry. You deserve it more than I do."  
  
Harry also stopped. "No, no, I'm just there for Professor Spenser's sabbatical. You earned this with your hard work."  
  
He started toward Hogsmeade again. "Come on let's go get that lunch you were talking about."  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
  
George was lying in his bed, watching Mittens and her kittens. The kittens were getting larger and when they tried to nurse, Mittens would push them away gently. Smokey left first and went to the bowl of kibble in the corner of George’s room to eat, while Ash snuggled up to his mother and started to drowse off. George was just getting ready to leave when an owl with a letter clamped in its talons thumped against his window.  
  
George stood and went to the window. He opened it and the small brown owl flew in and landed on the bed. Ash started to move toward it, but Mittens pulled him back and hissed at the owl. The owl looked at them, blinked, and then turned its head at an impossible seeming angle to look at George.  
  
“Whoo!” It hooted and held up the letter in its talon. George didn’t move fast enough and it hooted again.  
  
“Whoo!”  
  
George held out his hand and the letter fell into it.  
  
The envelope was parchment, and the letter was much thicker than a Muggle letter would have been. He turned it over and read.  
  
 _George Krupp  
The Burrow  
Ottery St. Catchpole  
Devon_  
  
He grabbed an old pen-knife that had Charlie’s name carved in it from his dresser and slit the envelope open. A thick letter fell out, written in a thin scrawled script. It took George a moment to figure out it was from Teddy. He started to read it when the owl hooted again.  
  
He turned to the owl and it pecked him gently on the hand.  
  
“Do you want some water or food?” He asked the owl.  
  
“Whoooo,” it replied. Smokey pounced on it from the floor and a brief tussle ensued, with the kitten ending up pinned under the owl’s talon.  
  
Mittens moved toward the owl, back arched and teeth chattering. The owl released Smokey, who yowled and ran to his mother. All the cats retreated to the far side of the bed and watched the owl carefully.  
  
“Follow me, I think we have some owl food around here somewhere.”  
  
George went to the door and the owl flew behind him with a soft whoosh.  
  
He went down to the ground floor and dug around in the kitchen cupboard while the owl flew circles around his head. He finally found a packet of owl food at the back of the cupboard and offered it to the owl. The owl pecked a couple of pieces out of his hand, and then flew to the sink. George opened the tap and the owl drank greedily from the stream before settling on the table. It lowered its head, closed its eys and seemed to fall asleep.  
  
George left the owl to go find Molly. He searched through the house first before going outside. He eventually found her in the shed, organizing the shelves.  
  
“Excuse me, Molly, but I got a letter and I’m not sure what to do with the owl. I’ve given it some owl food that I found in the cupboard and let it drink from the tap, but now it’s sleeping on the table in the kitchen. Do I need to do anything else for it?”  
  
Molly turned and looked at George curiously. “A letter? From whom? And yes, that’s exactly what you should have done for the owl.”  
  
“It’s from Teddy.” George picked up a small package off the ground and handed it to Molly. She put it on the shelf below the tent and the Quidditch ball case.  
  
“What did it say?” she asked.  
  
“I haven’t read it yet, the owl was bothered by Mittens and her kittens so I took it down to the kitchen and gave it food and water first.”  
  
Molly smiled. “You should go read your letter. You can tell me about it later when we feed the chickens.”  
  
“Yes, Molly,” he said, and left.  
  
He returned to his room and read the letter.  
  
 _George,_  
I hope you are having a good summer. Just think, soon we’ll be at Hogwarts! Don’t forget to ask Mr and Mrs Weasley if you can stay at Harry’s with me. We’ll have a great time. We can play Exploding Snap and Gobstones. Maybe Ginny will let us watch telly. You should read the last three chapters of Hogwarts A History. There’s a lot of good stuff about Harry and the Weasleys there.  
  
George quickly read through the rest of the letter, shaking his head at the short, fast sentences that read just like listening to Teddy talk. He laughed when he read how the owl, whose name was apparently Icarus had flapped about Mrs Tonks’s house when he first arrived and pooped on a bust of Beethoven before being shooed back into Teddy’s room.  
  
He slid the letter back into its envelope and went to his small school book pile. He’d idly leafed through them in the days since going to Diagon Alley, but they seemed so incomprehensible. He dug around until he found Hogwarts: A History. He opened it and turned to the last three chapters and started reading.  
  
He was startled some time later by Molly’s voice at his door. “George, are you all right? I’ve been calling for you for five minutes now.”  
  
“Sorry, Molly, I was reading and didn’t hear you.”  
  
Molly came in and sat next to George on the bed. “What did Teddy’s letter say?”  
  
George put down his book and sat up. “He wanted to remind me to ask you if I could spend a couple of days at Harry’s and Ginny’s with him, and he told me all about his new owl, and he told me to read the last three chapters of that.” He pointed at the book on his bed.  
  
Molly picked up the book and looked at the chapter he was reading. She put the book back and looked at George. “And what did you think about that?”  
  
George hung his head. “I’m not sure. I knew Harry was famous for something, but I didn’t know exactly what.”  
  
He lifted his head and looked curiously at Molly. “Did you really kill someone name Bellatrix LeStrange?”  
  
Molly sighed. “Yes, and I’m sorry for it every day, but I’d do it again. It was war and she was going to kill Ginny.”  
  
“I can feel her,” George whispered, lowering his head again. “I can feel how much she hates you. She wants to talk to you, but I don’t want to let her. It hurts to keep her out of my head.”  
  
Molly pulled her wand from her robes and touched it to George’s forehead.  
  
“Protego Alius.” A shield Charm flickered around George and his expression eased.  
  
“Better?” she asked.  
  
“Better,” he said. “I could feel her. As soon as I knew she was dead; I could feel her. She hates you, still hates you, she hates everyone.” He began to shake and cry. “She was cruel, she liked to hurt people. I don’t want her in my head again.”  
  
She leaned over and embraced him. “I’ll do anything I can to protect you, just like I protected my Ginny.”  
  
She held him until his crying stopped.  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Hermione double-checked the book before stirring the blue, smoking potion in the cauldron one last time. She flicked her wand at the fire under it and extinguished it, then rapidly cooled the potion and bottled it. She packed her book away and made sure the work area was spotlessly clean before she turned and Disapparated.  
  
She arrived outside the wards of the Burrow with a loud crack and went through them, checking them with her wand as she went. She frowned at the colour of one of the wards and replaced it with a steady hand.  
  
Molly and George were waiting for her in the kitchen with a cups of tea and biscuits. George had a Shield Charm shimmering around him, which Hermione immediately recognized as Molly’s.  
  
“I made the potion as fast as I could, but I’m still not sure about this,” Hermione said as she pulled up a chair. “I still think a sympathetic magic charm might work better.”  
  
“We can try that if this doesn’t work. George, please tell Hermione what you told me earlier.”  
  
George nibbled his biscuit nervously, then spoke.  
  
“It’s like hundreds of people whispering to me at once. Until Molly put this shield on me, I didn’t realize how noisy it was. Can you imagine what it’s like to be living with noise all your life and not realize it? I normally can’t make out what they’re whispering unless I know who it is. It’s like with Teddy; when he said he mother had died, I knew right away that one of the voices was hers, and when I read about Bellatrix, I knew she wanted to taunt Molly through me.”  
  
He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose with his handkerchief before continuing.  
  
“If I know someone’s name, I can concentrate on them and hear them, or make them listen to me.”  
  
Hermione rose, hugged him, and George stiffened, then relaxed. She released him and knelt at his side.  
  
“Can you pick out anyone by name, even if you didn’t know them?”  
  
He nodded. “Usually, but sometimes I can’t feel them at all.”  
  
Hermione turned to Molly. “Can you release your Shield Charm?”  
  
Molly picked her wand up off the table and flicked it at the charm, which dissolved like a soap bubble bursting.  
  
“Can you hear someone named Cedric Diggory?”  
  
George’s eyes went blank for a moment, then he shook his head.  
  
“How about Lavender Brown?”  
  
George shut his eyes this time, and when he opened them, he spoke in Lavender’s voice.  
  
“I’m so glad you and Ron are happy, and your children are well. Please, don’t tire the boy out too much, he’s had a hard time. Bellatrix is here, too, trying to crowd in, but power in life doesn’t give her power here.”  
  
Tears ran from Hermione’s eyes. “I’m sorry you died, Lavender. If I could have saved you I would have. At least you can know that Fenrir won’t kill anyone else.”  
  
George smiled. “Tell Won-Won that I’m happy for him.”  
  
George’s smile dropped as Lavender’s spirit left him.  
  
“Why do you think you could pick out Lavender, but not Cedric?” Hermione asked.  
  
“I dunno,” he said. “I think some people move on faster, or just don’t want to talk. I can’t feel my sister anymore after the Ministry put her back in her grave and I’ve never been able to contact my Mum, even though I’ve tried.”  
  
Hermione knelt next to George. “I think the best thing for you would be Occlumency, which is a kind of mental protection that keeps people from using Legilimency on you, which is a kind of, well, mind-reading you would call it.”  
  
She sighed. “The problem is, it’s pretty advanced defensive magic and hard to master.”  
  
Molly interrupted. “I think we should start training him on Occlumency as soon as possible.”  
  
“I don’t understand,” George said, standing and re-filling his tea cup. “How does stopping someone from reading my mind stop spirits from whispering to me?”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Hermione said. “What it does is blank your mind, and it’s good for lots of things. It can help you concentrate through distractions almost as well as a potion of clarity, and it should make the voices easy to ignore. It would be like having someone whispering to you from the next room rather than right next to you.”  
  
“Would Harry be teaching me?” George asked.  
  
Hermione laughed and Molly smiled.  
  
“Let’s just say that’s not Harry’s strength. Ron is actually better at Occlumency than either Harry or I and he’ll start teaching you.” She gripped George’s arm again. “But it will likely be years before you master it.”  
  
She held up the vial. “This is a modified potion of clarity. It will help make your mind clear and should help. I don’t think it will stop the whispering, but it should make it so you can concentrate on what you need and you can push the whispering aside.”  
  
George took the vial. “Do I just drink it?”  
  
Hermione nodded and George un-stoppered it and drank it down in one long swig.  
  
He gagged a little as it went down, and he shut his eyes.  
  
“Gah, it’s awful,” he choked. “How often will I have to take it?”  
  
“Daily, until you can master Occlumency or we come up with something else that helps.” Molly answered.  
  
“How do you feel?” Hermione asked. “The results should be almost immediate.”  
  
George opened his eyes and looked around, as if seeing the Burrow for the first time.  
  
“I feel awake; that’s how I feel. It’s like everything before had dirt on it and I couldn’t see it clearly. The voices are still there, but if I concentrate just a bit, I can make them quieter.”  
  
He sipped his tea. “I wish I’d had this during school, I think I would have done better.”

Hermione turned to Molly. “I can show you the recipe for this modified potion and when he goes to Hogwarts, Madame Pomfrey or Professor Captura can make it for him.”  
  
Molly nodded and they both watched as George walked around the kitchen looking at it like he’d never seen it before.


End file.
